


Thirst

by kranquro



Series: Thirst [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Bald Kankuro Rights, Fever, Harm to Animals, Implied Gaara/Lee, Injury, M/M, Pining, Rasa was a Bad Parent, Slow Burn, Spicy in last chapter, Water Politics in a Desert Society, idiots to lovers, sand siblings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 61,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22978801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kranquro/pseuds/kranquro
Summary: Kankuro realises that times of peace can come with its own series of personal conflicts.Enter one arranged marriage, one ninken smuggling ring, one unnervingly annoying Leaf ninja and an endless amount of dreaded political discourse.He is about to find out that life is infinitely more complicated in the face of duty.
Relationships: Inuzuka Kiba/Kankurou
Series: Thirst [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022581
Comments: 216
Kudos: 415





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is already turning out to be a lot longer than planned. Kiba to enter chapter four I would guess. Sorry about any typos. This is literally born from a plot I've had in my head for a long time that I really want to read.

Kankuro is two days deep into his newest project when the summons comes for him in his workshop. He had just finished carving one intricate part of the puppet - a hand - and was at that time bent over said limb with a thin paintbrush and a small pot of burnt umber paint. It took great focus to paint the delicate wrinkles on the palm of the hand, and Kankuro held out his own palm to reference from. He pauses when he feels a familiar chakra pattern appear in the adjoining chamber.

It’s Seto, the Council’s messenger.

Kankuro sighs and drops his paintbrush into the murky glass of water on his workbench. The mask he wears is starting to get uncomfortable so he closes up the (slightly toxic) paint and removes it, standing from his hunched position. Seto knocks at his workshop door just as he is stretching his arms high above his head. The pressure in his upper spine releases in clicks and cracks and he exhales a sigh of relief. An acrid smell reaches his nostrils and Kankuro sniffs his armpits before making a sound of distaste.

God, he stinks. He needed a shower yesterday.

“Come in,” he beckons. The door slides open and the Chuunin messenger bows before walking to deposit a small scroll in Kankuro’s hands. Kankuro had to wipe his hands in his brown leather apron before accepting the officially sealed document. Seto looks displeased, although Kankuro always got the impression he didn’t like the puppeteer. It didn’t bother him really. Lot’s of people didn’t like Kankuro.

“A summons from the Council, sir,” he says, looking bored. “They request your presence tomorrow at a formal council meeting. The details of which will be revealed at the time.”

Ugh, now he wished he hadn't taken care to wipe his hands. This couldn’t be a good thing. The Council only ever summoned him when they wished him to take part in one of their political schemes. Kankuro _hated_ politics. He understood that he is the son of the Fourth Kazekage, and the brother of the current one, but that didn’t mean he wanted to represent the Village at every given opportunity.

Kankuro rolled up the scroll loosely after scanning it’s contents. They told him nothing. He’s not surprised. The Council were a collection of old crones and coots who had nothing to do but stir up drama and plot and scheme and conspire. He made a sound of disgust before handing the offending article back to the messenger.

“No, thank you.”

Seto looked back at him with confusion and a frown marred his young forehead.

“Sir?!”

“I refuse. I’m busy, you see. Tell them I’ll be free in one week’s time. It’s still technically my rest leave and I intend to use it. I have seven days left.”

Kankuro hadn’t any intention before this to use all seven days of his rest leave in one go but if it meant finishing his project and avoiding the Council, he’d gladly use them.

Seto looked _pissed_.

“Sorry, Seto. Now scram. I don’t want to see you for a week.” The Chuunin left with a big huff and an irksome grunt. Kankuro wondered if his response would anger the Council into a ’skewer the messenger’ type situation. He hoped so. Seto was so prissy.

He moved to follow the path that the other had taken into the next chamber, the one Kankuro liked to call his ‘living quarters’ but Temari had told him that was a ‘bit pretentious ‘considering he now lived in a ‘drafty and leaky man cave’.

Okay, so it was a cave. And it was drafty. And it _was_ a bit leaky.

But he’d taken care of it. He’d searched every inch of this place for the residue given off by the infrequent Suna rainstorms and patched it up shoddily with some sandy cement. Come the next time Suna got a downpour, there wouldn’t be a drip nor a drop to be heard.

It was still pretty drafty though. She had him there. No matter how many rugs, tapestries, blankets and cushions he added to the space, there was always a chill in the air that would never vacate. He’d taken to picking up an assortment of woollen clothing on his travels. They kept him warm during the night and the long hours he spent in his workshop. Right now he was wearing a brown woollen jumper he’d picked up in Earth country over his usual black garb. It had come with matching socks which was pretty neat.

So, sure it was cold (and maybe leaky) but he still loved it.

It was his.

It was home.

And before moving in two months ago, he hadn’t felt anything like home in a long time.

-

Once Temari moved to Konoha, things had changed. After that, it was just Gaara and himself. Gaara, himself and what seemed like an endless succession of political outings.

The years after the war were tough for Sunagakure, and Gaara was often engaged in any number of missions, meetings, agreements, councils and treaties that only the Kazekage could solve. And Kankuro, as his bodyguard, accompanied him on all his excursions.

It was exhaustingly boring to Kankuro.

For one, Gaara didn’t even need a bodyguard. So Kankuro standing by his side was a bit redundant most of the time. One River Country politician had even assumed Kankuro was some kind of personal assistant once, when Kankuro was out of his usual black garb and dressed in simple traditional clothing.

Kankuro remembers he was standing to the back of the room by the open sliding doors. He was meant to the keeping watch for assassins, or attackers, but really he was watching the white butterflies dancing around the garden. He observed a pair of the insects swirling around one another as they flew up and around the thick oak tree at the far end of the garden. A female blackbird abruptly flew out from the tree and snatched one of the butterflies in it’s beak out of the air. It landed in a nest on a high bough of the oak, presumably feeding it’s awaiting chicks.

Nature was so cutthroat.

So here Kankuro was, contemplating the cruelty of the natural world, and minding his own business when the lord of the house finally decided to address him. 

“Excuse me, young man?”

Kankuro turned to face the kneeling man. There was a low desk spread between the Kazekage and himself. It was filled with handwritten drafts of a agreement they were working on. Both men had been pouring over the drafts of the document for well over four hours now without break and the mental exhaustion was beginning to show.

“Oh pardon, if you’re not doing anything, will you be a good lad and grab us some tea?”

Kankuro’s mouth dropped slightly and the Sand brothers were silent in the face of the question. Well, for Kankuro he was feeling disbelief. Gaara looked mostly the same. Although the slow rise of his head to give the lord what was a quintessentially ‘Gaara of the Desert’ stare definitely spoke volumes to his older brother. It told Kankuro he was right to be peeved about this request.

“Huh?” Kankuro asked, in an almost threatening manner. Almost. This was a high-ranking lord of River country and Kankuro had learned a bit about diplomacy in the years by his brothers side. Never mind thatGaara wasn’t exactly the best example considering how blunt he could be. It wouldn’t do Suna well to slap this man for his nerve. And it was nerve in Suna to treat the brother of the Kazekage as a personal assistant.

For this, Gaara looked about ready to enclose him in a Sand Coffin.

“Don’t you have servants who could do that?” He asked in a low voice while Kankuro eyed his brother warily. The expression on his face rivalled that of his early teens, back when he was a teeny, tiny bit fond of murder. The River lord seemed to not have taken any notice at all that the temperature of the room had completely plummeted and that there was a distinctly dangerous vibe enshrouding his esteemed guest.

But apparently Kankuro wasn’t an esteemed guest. He was the help. The tea guy. The guy who fetched tea for his master. Nice. Maybe Kankuro would get one punch in while Gaara killed this dude.

The River lord was cheerful as ever when he replied. God, this man was oblivious. “I do! But Mina, my housekeeper, is the only one in at the moment. She’s eight months pregnant and is struggling to get around. I thought maybe…” He looked meaningfully at Kankuro with the utmost sincerity and Kankuro caved at the thought making that poor woman waddle with a heavy tea tray.

“My brother, Kankuro of the Sand, unfortunately-”

“I’ll get the tea. Which way is Mina?” Kankuro asked, interrupting Gaara before he could refuse. “I’m just standing here anyway.” He cast a look at his brother which he hoped meant “Leave it. I’m trying to be nice.” But which probably came off as basic staring to Gaara.

He still wasn’t very good at picking up social signals.

And in the end, Kankuro was glad he had gotten the tea.Mina was _heavily_ pregnant. Kankuro had never been around a pregnant woman before, except for his own mother (and he had no memories of that), and he found it hard to believe she still had another month of growing to go. She made the tea at his request and attempted to heft it up off the table and into his waiting hands. Kankuro let out a shout as she struggled with the heavily-laden tray (do they really need a teapot each?) and quickly relieved her of the load as her face turned red and a sweaty sheen appeared from just that small bit of exertion. It was early March, and still rather cool. Yet, the woman was waving herself with a large fan like it was the depths of summer. Thank god she wasn’t in Suna where the temperatures right now were soaring with no sign of letting up soon. Another worrying thought.

Kankuro returned to the office room where Gaara and the River lord were currently sitting in what Kankuro would definitely call an awkward silence. The lord was red-faced and clutching his hands in his lap like a pupil who had been scolded by his teacher for lack of homework. His widened eyes focused on an indeterminate point on the table in what looked like an effort to get his breathing under control. Kankuro eyed his brother for answers but Gaara only patiently shuffled some papers and moved them to the side to allow room for the tray.

“Thank you, Kankuro. Please, sit with us.”

Gaara then looked pointedly at the River lord, who seemed to be waiting for this cue, and the older man launched upwards and into the deepest bow Kankuro had ever seen. His head was somehow touching the floor from a standing position.

He took a deep breath and-

“I apologise, Lord Kankuro! It was thoughtless of me to ask of you such a baseless task! Please, accept my humblest apologies for my foolishness!” At his bellow, Kankuro jerked back and in doing so knocked a teapot he had reached for when he’d kneeled to join them. Dark liquid spilled across the crockery and the River lord looked up with abject horror on his face. He bowed deeply once again.

His forehead was now flat on the ground.

“I apologise once again!”

This guy was too much.

“Nah, no worries, no worries,” Kankuro said casually, casting his hand to the side as if to clear the air. He himself wanted to escape this intense situation now. “I will run this back to the kitchen to Mina to replace-”

“Allow me, Lord Kankuro!”

And with the the River lord picked up the tray and escaped down the corridor to the kitchens before Kankuro even had a chance to right the fallen tea pot. He eyed his brother once again. Gaara was the picture of innocence and he carefully re-inked his brush.

“Was that really necessary?” Kankuro asked suspiciously.

“…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kankuro sighed. “Could you please not traumatise our allies with your terrifying dressing downs? It was only a pot of tea! Or three!” He put his face in his hand as Gaara began writing once again.

“You weren’t going to say anything,” he replied. Kankuro smiled into his hand at the thought of his brother feeling like he needed to defend him. Although once again, this pointed out the futility of Kankuro coming on these excursions.

“Thank you for defending my honour,” he said. He sighed again. “You know, perhaps it’s time I get back to using my talents elsewhere. Not that my tea carrying skills aren’t _amazing._ But, I think some high-rank missions for the Village might be more on par with my skill level, don’t you think?”

Gaara once again hummed in response, and upon their return the Village a series of missions came up that gave Kankuro no end of distraction.

-

He decided to speak to Gaara about the Council meeting. Or well, he didn’t decide. He was going to. Absolutely. All of his own choice.

Soon after he rejected Seto and got back to work in his workshop, a small trickle of sand wrapped around his wrist and Kankuro looked up to see his brother’s creepy sand eye ball staring at him from above his desk. Kankuro hadn’t even noticed it was there.

“That is really really creepy, you know? I could have been doing _anything_ in here. What if I had someone over?’ He addressed the ball of sand while leaning back in his chair and pointed accusingly at it’s perch about two feet over his desk.

It responded by blinking slowly which Kankuro knew meant something along the lines of _as if anyone would come over to your cold little hole._

Well, Gaara wouldn’t say that, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t thinking it.He was just as surprised as Temari that Kankuro wanted to move out of their family home and into some cave he found in the natural walls of Suna.

“Didn’t you say there was snakes, Kankuro?” He’d asked in Gaara’s special brand of incredulous. Again, to others except his siblings, he was still incredibly stony.

“Yeah…but only a few! It’s really cool and the perfect height for storing my puppets and natural light from the hole in the ceiling and has a really cool statue! It's like a crocodile man, or something. I dunno. I reckon it was a small hall for some kind of crocodile man cult at some stage.”

Gaara lifts one non-existent eyebrow. “Crocodile…man?”

“Yeah, like a crocodile’s body with a man’s face…Anyway! I’m moving in this weekend. Wanna help?”

“Unfortunately,” Gaara liked that word. He said it a lot. “I have to welcome the delegates from Iwagakure, so no, I can’t.”

“It’s all cool, brother. Come round for the housewarming, yeah?”

And in the two months since Kankuro had moved out of their shared home, Gaara had yet to come round to visit. Kankuro hadn’t had a housewarming…yet. Although to be honest, apart from Temari and Gaara, there wasn’t many people he hung out with on a friendly basis. Sure he had his men, his trusted soldiers, but while they de-stressed after a mission at the bar, Kankuro was the one who submitted the post-mission report to the Kazekage. Usually, this was the only time he got to see his little brother on the regular. So, if he missed a few socialising opportunities, it was worth it.

Temari _had_ come round. Once. When it still had snakes. Although, he didn’t think she’d come round again after she sat on his sofa and a disgruntled _hisssssssss_ sounded from beneath the cushions. (That was Soba, the sofa snake. He was actually pretty cool. For a snake. Not like Udon, the dickhead behind-the-fridge snake. He _wasn’t_ cool.)

…Yeah, his new home is maybe a _bit_ snake-y.

But, he’d set traps. He was taking care of it. He was releasing the snakes in safe locations in the desert. He was a _responsible_ _homeowner_ now.

(He’d allowed Soba to stay though. On account of his being, you know, Kankuro’s snake bro. He kept mice out of the cave. And sometimes, when Kankuro napped on his sofa he would wake up to Soba just chilling on his chest. You see? _Bros_.)

He figured Temari had forgiven him when she sent him a piece of artwork to display on his wall. It was a stitching pattern with a picture of a lovely cosy house and above it, in green thread, there was a quote that read;

“It’s not a snake house, it’s a snake _home_.”

And if he didn’t think that was just lovely.

He’d nailed it to the wall behind the Plant Corner, which is the name he given to the area he was storing the plants Gaara was giving him. Apparently, these plants liked cool areas with minimal light. Kankuro had four of them now. He should maybe think about giving them names.

Hmm.

Ferny.

Flossy.

What other names could he use?

Hmm.

Greeny?

Another trickle of sand brushed over his wrist and Kankuro was brought back to reality by the now definitely annoyed eyeball in front of him.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming. Gimme ten,” Kankuro said in response to what was clearly a summons of Gaara’s own. Another trickle of sand at his wrist encouraged him to look down at his desk where the grains had arranged themselves into an accusing message:

_SHOWER FIRST_

Kankuro looked back at the eye with incredulity.

“How can you _possibly_ smell me? You got a creepy sand nose too, huh?”

The eye ball disappeared in response and the sand dispersed all over his desk but made no signs of further movement. “Great. Sand everywhere. My own brother can smell me from his office. And the Council probably wants my guts over hot coals. Best. Day off. Ever.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankuro speaks with Gaara.

When Kankuro arrives at Gaara’s office, his brother is for once not attending to the everlasting mountain of paper work on his desk and is instead cleaning a small purple succulent on the bookcase by the door.

Kankuro doesn’t jump when he opens the door to see Gaara _right there_ , but it’s a near thing and he awkwardly pauses when Gaara holds his gaze without saying anything.

“Uh, hey,” Kankuro finally says. “Did you need me for something? About the Council, maybe?...I showered.”

Gaara nods his head slightly to the right before answering. “Good. Do you want to come in and close the door?”

“…Sure.”

Kankuro does so and then stands behind the closed door while Gaara puts down his purple plant. He then proceeds to pick up another green one. The small white cloth in his hand carefully dabs at the waxy leaves of the plant as Gaara tends to his collection with the utmost care.

Maybe Gaara just wanted to hang out first.

It’s been a while since Kankuro and Gaara had done something together that didn’t count as a work activity. And even then, Temari was always there too. Kankuro actually could never think of a time he and Gaara hung out in a non-work related capacity. Just the two of them. He had always been his body guard. Looking out for ‘threats’ to his unfairly overpowered little brother.

And this might be the only independent non-work related activity he’d ever seen Gaara do too. Apart from his previous hobby of, you know, murder.

But now Gaara apparently liked to care for these plants. As evident by his own plant corner back at the cave. They had always been in his office and Kankuro has assumed that they were a decorative piece installed by the building managers. But come to think of it, they weren’t here before Gaara became Kazekage. Their father wasn’t really the nurturing type.

Kankuro hadn’t thought _Gaara_ was the nurturing type.

And yet, looking at the contentment he displayed while carefully wiping beige dust off the green leaves, Kankuro wondered why he’d never noticed these small instances of personality in Gaara’s office. The treasured things that he’s chosen to surround himself with.

There were books on shelf. All to do with the cultivation of plants and gardening. (Except for two, one called _Strengthening your Core: Two Thousand Daily Exercises for the Youthful Shinobi_ and another with a bright orange cover that Kankuro was pretty sure was porn. He wasn’t going to ask.) 

There was small trinkets and knick-knacks, like shiny rocks, shells and a small fan; held up by a tiny figurine of Shukaku that looked like it was carved from sandstone. Lastly, a small framed photograph of Temari, Gaara and himself, encased in a bamboo frame.

He remembered the day it was taken, although he hadn’t seen the photograph itself. They were eating a celebratory meal at home when Temari demanded her new fiancé should take a photo of the Sand Siblings on this momentous occasion. Kankuro, a case of beer in already, was smiling widely into the lenses with a clear blush along with an equally beaming Temari. Both their arms caged their little brother in a hug which was so tight one of Gaara’s eyes was squeezed closed as his cheek was pressed against Temari’s. While Gaara would say his mouth was open in protest, Kankuro could appreciate the upturned open mouth for the smile it was.

It was the happiest Kankuro had been for a while.

Kankuro always thought that peace time after the war would come with happiness. He was looking forward to experiencing a life without stress. It was a pity he found the work of a body guard so boring. It would have set him up with a cushy number for life. Less work, less missions, less grind. He’d thought he’d enjoy himself. Maybe go on vacation every once and a while if Gaara could spare him. (Which he definitely could.) Maybe he’d get time go to the bars and hang out with other shinobi. Maybe he’d meet a girl. Settle down. Have some kids.

Ugh, kids.

Maybe not have any kids.

Kids are awful.

Gaara has the right idea. Plants don’t get runny noses and they definitely don’t scream. Neither do puppets, actually. Interesting how both he and Gaara shared hobbies that involved lots of quiet contemplation. He wondered if Gaara talked to his plants like he talked to his puppets. Sometimes the silence got too much for Kankuro too.

“Do you want help with that?” He asks, needing to speak. Kankuro was now leaning his shoulder against the door watching Gaara attend to his plants. He’s been doing so for a few minutes now. His brother’s face was devoid of any lines or expression, but his eyes were fond. Maybe Gaara had found peace in this after the war. Maybe he had found contentment and balance within himself.

“You can water this row,” said Gaara, pointing to the middle shelf with a selection of cacti perched upon it. He handed Kankuro a small tin watering can. “Not too much.”

Kankuro carefully poured about a small amount of water into each pot before placing the can back on the ground. He reached his hand back up to hold his finger delicately over the spines of the cactus within a forest green pot. It looked like a beginners attempt at pottery as the clay was wobbly and wonky in places. The whole vessel was falling down on one side, but it contained the cactus all the same. It was etched with the leaf symbol of Konoha at it’s front.

“Did you get this in Konoha?” He asked.

“It was a gift.” Gaara placed the plant he was holding back on the shelf and pocketed his cleaning cloth. He wasn’t wearing his Kazekage robes, just his usual garb of maroon linen pants and a white shirt. He raised his hand and idly stroked the Leaf symbol on the clay pot. Kankuro could see that area was darker, probably from the repetitive brush of fingertips. “From Lee.”

“Rock Lee? Jeez, it’s pretty…crappy. Is this the standard Konoha is shelling out?”

“He made it.”

Bowlcut _made_ it. For _Gaara_. 

“Oh. Sorry, didn’t mean to shit on it.”

Gaara ignored him and a small awkward silence followed before Kankuro pointed again to the cactus within the misshapen pot.

“It suits the cactus though. Because the cactus is also a bit wonky at the bottom,” he said, trying to amend his insult.

Gaara reached out to check the soil of the plant. “The plant was almost dead when I bought it. It was damaged. I put it it in this pot and took care of it and now it is flourishing,” he said with a faint smile on his face. He looked happy.

Kankuro smiled.

“Can I touch it?”

A small frown line appeared in the centre of Gaara’s brow. “Why? It will prick you.” 

“It’ll be fun!”

“No. You might damage it further it if you’re not careful.”

“I can be careful!”

Gaara hummed and turned around, walking towards his desk. Kankuro grinned and quickly prodded one of the spines on the plant.

“Ouch,” he said, clutching his finger in his other hand.

Gaara paused.

“Did you touch the cactus?”

“…No.”

“Kankuro,” he sighed. There was a hint of frustration in his tone. Kankuro decided to stir the pot. It’s what older brothers were _for_.

“Say…would you be mad if _Lee_ touched your cactus?”

Gaara hackles raised slightly and his hands curled into fists at his side. Kankuro would say that he whipped around and gave Kankuro an annoyed glare but Gaara never ‘whipped’ anywhere and his face was still imperceptible and stony as ever. But Kankuro could definitely tell that there was a red tinge to his brother’s ears, Sand armour or not.

“Oh, you’re blushing,” he teased.

“Stop being ridiculous. Just sit down,” said Gaara in almost a hiss, as he himself sat behind his desk. Kankuro chuckled evilly as he walked over and sat opposite his now grumpy brother.

Gaara picked up a sheet of paper from his desk. It looked similar to the one the Council has sent him. He placed the letter in the centre of the table and calmly balanced his head on steepled hands.

“We need to discuss your marriage.”

“I’m sorry. My what?” Kankuro’s brow furrowed. “ _My_ marriage? Wait, are you confused? You know Temari is the one getting married, not me?”

“No,” said Gaara. “I need to talk to you about the arranged marriage the Council have planned for you and want to corner you into when you attend their upcoming meeting in a few days time.”

…

“WHAT?!”

-

Kankuro paced across the Kazekage’s office.

“Send me away, Gaara. Please. There has to be a mission far, far away from here. I’m not going to this meeting. I’m not getting married. How can I get married? And to a stranger?! Is romance dead? Why do they think they even have the NERVE to do something like this?! They can’t do something like this! Can they? Oh god, Gaara. What’ll I do?! This is insane!”

Kankuro plonked down in the chair he had abandoned to rant and rave about the room.

“Is there no missions?” He begged. “Maybe,if it’s an S-rank, I’ll get killed and I won’t come back and have to deal with this.” He covered his face with his hands and groaned. His face paint smudged over his fingers.

“Don’t joke about that,” said Gaara. “And no, I don’t think they can make you. You can always refuse.”

Hope lit up inside Kankuro’s chest. “Really?!”

“Of course. The Council are just looking for heirs,” he explained. “ With Temari emigrating to Konoha, they’ll need another to produce a strong Kazekage line to ensure stability for Suna in the future. Right now, you’re my heir presumptive and I believe they want security for future generations. Hence, they want you to get married. And to a suitable candidate.”

Temari was made well aware by the Council during the course of their relationship that Shikamaru Nara was not a Suitable Candidate. Kankuro wondered what ’suitable’ Wind Country nobleman’s daughter they had in mind for him. Probably a woman whose father had a large bank account.

“Ugh, it’s bit seedy really. I feel like I’d be pimped out. You know how much the Council like political matches,” Kankuro grumbled. “You’re sure I can say no?”

“…It’ll work out the way they want,” Gaara said cryptically.

Hmmm. That sounded weird.

“…What do you mean ‘work out the way they want’?”

Gaara pulled the letter on the desk back towards him and shuffled some papers around on his desk. “If you don’t want to marry, I’ll marry. I’ll produce heirs for the Council.”

Kankuro’s mouth dropped open.

“You?”

“Yes.”

“Produce heirs?”

“Yes.”

“With a wife?”

“Yes.

“Do you even…?” Kankuro asked delicately.

“Know what sex is? Yes, Kankuro. I am aware of the logistics. It can’t be that hard.”

“It most definitely should be hard.”

Gaara scoffed at his brother crassness. But otherwise, he was talking about this like it was learning a new jutsu and not _volunteering to marry a woman and start a family with said wife_.

“What about raising the kids? You gonna do night feeds?” Kankuro asked. This situation seemed more ridiculous by the second.

That small wrinkle appeared in the centre of Gaara’s brow again. He appeared to think for a moment.

“What’s a night feed?”

Kankuro put his head in his hands and groaned, smudging his face paint more. He couldn’t allow Gaara to go through with this. Or put whatever poor woman they chose to go through with this.

“Maybe I could love…who they choose,” Gaara said almost timidly. His eyes flicked to the bookcase behind Kankuro.

Deep down, Gaara of the Desert had a lot of love to give and deserved to get every bit of that love back.

And Kankuro wouldn’t be a very good big brother to allow Gaara to take his place in a marriage planned for himself.

-

“We were surprised to receive your request for a meeting, Lord Kankuro. I suppose the Kazekage has informed you as to the nature of this gathering. We hope we didn’t shock you too badly. We are humbled…”

Kankuro zoned out. The Council were a group of Suna natives and country lords with an average age of seventy two and and direct purpose to meddle and make other’s lives unnecessarily difficult.

A collection of crones?

A gathering of geriatrics?

A crowd of old coots?

Kankuro couldn’t settle on an appropriate name to suit their annoyance in his head. These meetings never got straight to the point. Kankuro believed that the Chairperson, Tatsuki Inari, just loved the sound of his own voice.

He droned on and on for three more minutes.

“Look,” Kankuro interrupted. “I’m going to make this quick. I’ll go along with the arranged marriage. You pick someone, anyone, and I’ll be there on my wedding day. I’ll do what you want and have fifty kids if need be. But, leave Gaara to make his own choice on his future marriage, should he decide to engage in one or not. That’s my condition. Take it or leave it.”

Kankuro knelt with his arms crossed while he waited for the council members to confer. And confer they did. For a further ten minutes. He could tell they were taken aback but his willingness. But his eye was starting to twitch with annoyance. Finally the whispering ceased and Tatsuki spoke once again.

“Thank you, Lord Kankuro. We accept your conditions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me at krankuro on Tumblr for extra information and head canons as well as update progress. Or if you wanna just chat shop about anything Kiba/Kankuro I'm game!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankuro receives a new mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This already going to be more than 15 chapters.

“Why did you accept the arranged marriage?”

 _Fuck_ , Kankuro thought. _Think of a lie. Anything. Anything at all._

A slither of sand had once again summoned him from his workbench that morning following his meeting with the Council. He’d only been back at his cave for twenty minutes and cursed the fact that he would have to leave again quickly. But he’d requested a new mission, and while he expected Gaara to hand it to him personally, he hadn’t expected such an intense inquisition quite so soon. Or rather, he wasn’t ready for it yet.

_What are you going to tell him?_

Kankuro shifted uncomfortably in his chair and longed to be anywhere else. If Gaara knew he’d accepted this proposal to essentially cushion his little brother’s future, he’d overturn Kankuro’s decision immediately and request it for himself. He had to assure Gaara this was the best decision, and then get out of Suna for a bit to give him a chance to forget about it.

(Gaara wouldn’t forget about it. But at least Kankuro can avoid the subject for a few days.)

He could see the mission file _right there_ under Gaara’s left hand, but his brother seemed to be focused on getting an answer out of him. He was frowning, as if a chess board lay before him and his opponent was somehow winning without knowing _any_ of the rules.

Kankuro sighed and cast his eyes out the small circular window, putting a wistful look on his face. “I guess, when I thought about it, it wasn’t that bad an offer,” he explained nonchalantly. Kankuro joined his hands behind his head and shrugged, forcing himself to meet Gaara’s eyes.

“You said you would rather die in your next mission than agree to their arranged marriage,” he deadpanned. 

He wasn’t buying it.

Frustration filled Kankuro at his brothers suspicion. “Look! It’s just…easier than trying to find my own wife! And I’m better off having kids sooner rather than later, right? Gotta, you know, sow my oats, and all that.”

“Kankuro….you hate children.” Gaara stared at him from across the paperwork and it made Kankuro remember a time when he couldn’t look his brother in the eyes at all. When they were children, looking into Gaara’s pupil-less eyes and the dark rings surrounding them was a stark reminder of how monstrous he had become. When Gaara was at his most manic, red veins would crack towards his pale green irises and the sight alone made Kankuro’s shoulders shake with tension. His back and neck aching with the strain of trying to stay as still as possible. All the while, hoping - _praying_ \- Gaara’s chilling eyes would sweep past him and onto some other poor target.

So, considering that the only child younger than himself he’d interacted with was a mass-murdering lunatic ( _no offence, Gaara, you’ve come a long way_ ), who could blame him for being a little, teensy, bit weird around kids?

 _Children could be fun_ , he reasoned. _They liked …playing?_

But…it was all fun and games, until someone got hurt. Or…ripped apart right in front of your eyes. Or…crushed to a pulp in a coffin made of sand. Or…you know, the severe mental trauma that came with your little brother murdering your beloved family members. 

Look, if children freak him out a bit, he has a damn good reason for that. That’s all he was saying. But really, it was probably more due to Raza’s _amazing_ parenting that he hated childhood so much. Let’s not blame it all on Gaara.

Wait…

That was a way he could persuade Gaara to leave the matter alone…

No, he couldn’t. It was too _cruel_.

But, it would get Gaara off his back about it…

No.

“Are you trying to protect me?” Gaara asked bluntly, snapping him from his thoughts.

 _Yes_.

“No, of course not!” Kankuro protested. “As if you need protecting! Ha ha!”

Unsurprisingly, Gaara didn’t echo his laugh when he picked up the mission file, placing it before Kankuro with finality.

“Kankuro, I will be meeting with the Council later and I will inform them that you never wanted a part of this. There’s your mission. Go. Come back in a few days and don’t trouble yourself doing something you feel is your duty. I don’t need you to protect me on this.”

 _Oh, but you do,_ Kankuro thought. He could protect him on this. He wasn’t the best bodyguard, and not for lack of trying. He was physically just not as strong as his brother. Standing beside Gaara often felt like a pity position for the Kazekage’s sibling rather than a real job. The feeling of being deadwood in the water, just going with the flow and whiling away the days, had plagued the last few years of his life.

But Gaara had wanted him by his side. And Gaara _deserved_ what he wanted. He deserved _everything_. Love. Family. Happiness. This marriage would not be happy for Gaara. And he didn’t deserve to be compelled into following the Council’s orders. Although, the fact that Gaara himself was going to take the fall for Kankuro was the decider enough. Kankuro didn’t need Gaara to protect him either.

So, he really needed Gaara to drop it. He was going to have to be cruel, to be kind.

“Look, Gaara. I didn’t want to say this. But, clearly there is a reason that the Council chose me and not you to hassle about this.” Kankuro leaned forward and stared at the table.

“Like what?” Gaara asked. He couldn’t look up at his brother but he could hear the confusion in his tone. Kankuro’s mouth felt loose at what he was about to say. The words weren’t tasting right in his mouth.

He took a deep breath.

“The Council are surely worried about any childhood traits you may, or may not, pass on to your offspring.” He paused. “ And…if your current traits are suitable to the nurturing of a child.”

Silence. Kankuro risked a glance at his brother. Gaara wasn’t looking at him at all, but at the bookshelf behind him. The one with the plants and the green clay pot. (The literal evidence of Gaara’s nurturing side.) His brother scrunched up his eyes before he shut them quickly. His mouth grimaced slightly while he said, “They think I would raise an emotionless monster. And that I wouldn’t be a good father.”

“…Yes,” said Kankuro. “The apple not falling far from the tree and all that. Guess they want to take that chance on me, though.”

“…Do you agree with them?” The earnestness in Gaara’s face made Kankuro want to take back everything he had said. Even if it was probably true. The Council not demanding this of Gaara before Kankuro spoke _volumes_. Kankuro wanted to do nothing more that reassure Gaara that he’d be a great father, as he had so much love to give, and that he was the most patient teacher. Everything that would convince him.

But, it would have to wait until after Kankuro was married. Sealing Gaara into a loveless marriage would be like sealing that beast into him all over again. Bye, bye autonomy.

Oh, god. He’s gonna feel like such a dick saying this.

He took another deep breath.

“…I think you’d make an amazing _uncle_ , Gaara.”

Kankuro hadn’t the courage to look his brother in the face as he said it. God, he was such a sack of shit. He heard a slight squeak and when he finally did raise his head, Gaara had swung around in his chair and was staring out the window. He guessed. He couldn’t see his face.

“That makes sense,” said Gaara formally, and Kankuro heart _panged_. “If that’s the reason, I won’t talk to them. Report back after your mission in a few days time. Thank you. And good luck.”

 _Thank you for admitting you think I’d be a terrible father._ And _good luck on the mission you said you’d rather die on, than forcefully bound in marriage._

With his dismissal, Kankuro stood and walked out of the office with the file, passing the lovingly cared for plants on his way out.

_He was such a sack of stinking shit._

-

The mission was pretty boring. His job was just to escort a high-ranking merchant from Suna to his home town on the coast. He didn’t have anyone targeting him, just some apparently high value goods that the merchant was willing to pay top dollar to protect. They were travelling on horseback, as the sacks, of what looked like wheat, were heavy and required a third horse to carry it all.

“Wouldn’t some camels have been a better call, sir?” Kankuro said, although horses were his favourite mode of transport. He liked the smell of the animal, earthy and oily somehow, and he also liked the fact that he didn’t have to run. Kankuro could obviously run very fast as a Jounin-level shinobi, but that didn’t mean he liked the constant and ceaseless skimming of his feet against the sand. And, camels were prone to spitting. He didn’t like that.

“Nah, camel’s spit,” said the merchant. Kankuro laughed.

So all in all, a nice easy mission, a bit boring but the old merchant had some great stories to tell on the three day journey to his home town, so at least it was mildly entertaining. Well, ninety per cent of the stories he told were funny, the others were fond tales of his beautiful wife.

Allegedly, this woman was a total fox, if what the merchant said what anything to go by. He wondered if his future wife would be pretty.

Kankuro couldn’t wait to see what she looked like when he got to Port Kyoka. “My Himiko, she’s is kinder than the most pious monk, you know. She tends to everyone who needs it and she’s loved by the townspeople. They see her coming and say, ‘Oh, here’s Himiko! Her beauty alone could feed me for days!’ She always tells me to stop listening to such nonsense, though. That ‘only bread and milk could feed the hungry.’ That’s when she sent me to Suna, you know! To fetch food for the refugees!” He reached back a with a small wrinkled hand patted the bag of wheat on the horse behind him. High-value goods indeed.

“Refugees?” Kankuro asked. He hadn’t heard of any skirmish in their borders that warranted migration of that kind. “From where?”

“Episar,” informed the merchant, with a sorry look. “The blighters were starving out there in those wild lands. Loads have moved to the coast to try to start a new life. One where they can actually feed their children.”

“Episar,” Kankuro repeated. The name jogged a memory.Gaara had definitely mentioned it in one of his meetings recently. “Isn’t that the area where Suna get’s it’s water supply from? To the east of here?”

“The one and only. Awful place.”

“Really? Have you been? Why is it awful?” Kankuro had been to some truly harrowing towns and villages during his missions. Seen bodies lining the streets with disease and the gaunt faces of children staring out of dark doorways and alleys. He couldn’t envisage this within their borders though. Gaara and the new Wind Daimyo surely wouldn’t allow it.People enjoyed living in Wind these days, despite their ongoing economic issues.

“While the poverty is one of the worst in Wind, it’s actually the level of crime that given the city it's awful reputation. Criminal gangs run the whole shop. They operate all sorts of illegal dealings from their citadel. And, from there, all over the Land of Wind.”

It’s the first Kankuro’s heard of it.

“How big is this town? How come I’ve never heard of it properly?”

“Ah, there'd be reason for that, if rumours are to be believed. But that’s for another day, we’re almost here. I can see the tents.”

Beige coloured triangles appeared on the horizon.

“C’mon, Himiko awaits.” The old merchant spurred his horse on with glee.

-

Himiko was not beautiful. And despite the fact that she was clearly well into her sixties, Kankuro didn’t think that she was beautiful in her younger days either.

But the way the old merchant jumped off his horse (as quick as a man half his age) and ran to kiss her blushing cheek made a pang of something erupt in Kankuro’s chest. The old couple embraced as if they had been separated for ten years leaving Kankuro standing to the side. His arms and jaw ached slightly and unexpectedly with tension, so he reached out to fold his arms.

What was _that_ feeling?

The old couple separated which a disgusting smacking sound that Kankuro wished he hadn’t heard.

“This is Himiko, my wife,” the merchant said gesturing excitedly to the very tall woman beside him. She towered over him. “Himiko, this is Kankuro, my escort _and_ brother to the Kazekage himself!”

The lady’s eyes lit up with interest as she cooed with her husband. “Ooh, excellent, Tano!” She had a very deep voice, and very pink lipstick. “I’m _sure_ the Kazekage would love to heard about the strides we are making in taking care of the refugees. Don’t you think, Lord Kankuro?” She asked slyly.

Kankuro realised then that he’d been roped into political duties after all. He _had_ started to think that paying for him to personally escort one man and six large bags of wheat across the desert was a _little_ beneath him. But, obviously, his unofficial role as ‘Sibling to the Kazekage’ would give the merchant and his wife access to a direct link to Sunagakure’s leader, especially if they were looking for aid for the refugees of this town.

“Come this way,” she said, as she brought them closer to the group of tents. There were about twenty in total all centred around a large inner circle with was clearly the communal area for water collecting and socialising. There were about thirty people in the clearing, mostly women and children. A few teenagers ground wheat in the central area, closely observed by a middle-aged woman with a jagged scar running down the left side of her face. Her eye drooped, pulled down by the angry scar tissue. It was milky and unseeing, but Kankuro could sense distrust in them all the same as they passed to the centre of the clearing.

These suspicious eyes observed him from a distance as Himiko announced his arrival and status. It was all a bit underwhelming when the reaction he received was stone cold silence if not outright hostility. Most adults put their heads down once again and continued along with their tasks as if nothing had happened. The milky-eyed woman also went back to her work, but she spoke lowly to the teens in front of her and Kankuro noticed two boys abandon their task and disappear among the tents.

“Well, that could be expected,” said Himiko.

“Why? What am I missing here?” Asked Kankuro looking at the merchant’s wife. “Do I smell bad or something?”

Himiko looked uncomfortable for a second, and seemed to be about to launch into an explanation.

“ _Not. Here_ ,” the merchant hissed, moving to stand near the two. He said, louder, “Let’s move this wheat you delivered to the store, Kankuro.” He made it sound like Kankuro himself had bought the food for them and he wondered if it was to try and mend the cold arrival.

The woman with the scar swiftly turned her attention back to them and she scurried to their side.

“Ah, let’s have the boys deliver to the tent, yes? Surely, the brother of the Kazekage shouldn’t concern himself with such _basic tasks_? Especially after your long journey, Lord Tano.” The woman said this pleasantly, but with a slight frantic tinge. She spoke with her disfigured side tilted slightly away from them, drawing focus to her, admittedly beautiful, unmarred right side. “Shall we have tea while you tell us of your travels,” she said, charming the merchant.

Something was up here. This woman did not want him to see their food store.

“No, really, I insist,” he said. “I would like to see the store. So I may know how much to send in future,” he promised, looking directly into the woman’s eyes. She clenched her jaw and looked about ready to argue once again when-

“Excellent idea, Lord Kankuro. Grab a bag, would you? The horses get tangled in the tent wires. So we can’t bring them there.” Kankuro hefted a bag of wheat from the back of the horse he rode in on, before turning to the woman once again.

“Lead the way.” If anyone objected to him slipping an extra kunai from the horse’s saddlebag, then they better be ready to something about it.

-

The two teenagers that the woman had ushered away were standing red-faced and wide-eyed beside two large boxes in the food store.

Bingo.

They worriedly looked between Kankuro, the scarred woman, and each other while Kankuro waited for instruction on where to place the sack.

“Well? Where does this go?” He said, hefting the bag higher on his shoulder. The teenagers were shook out of their stupor and gestured to Kankuro where the bags should be placed. He flopped it over with a grunt.

“Man, that’s heavy. Boys, why don’t you go and grab the rest? I think I am quite tired from our journey after all.”

“I’ll oversee!” said the merchant, leaving the tent with the teens. They cast furtive glances at the scarred woman as they passed. If Kankuro was correct, they looked fearful, and guilty.

He waited for the tent flap to fall completely. Himiko started giving a stock take of the organised store and how the refugees were doing much better now in this new place. She hinting how this was only temporary lodging, however,and couldn’t be a permanent solution.

“I could speak to my brother about funding. Although I can’t make any promises, of course,” said Kankuro.He hadn’t taken his eyes off the boxes at the back of the tent which the woman had now placed herself in front of. Her face soured when he made to take a step forward, and she reflexively tried to shield the crates.

“So,” he asked. “What’s in crates?”

“Nothing,” she answered quickly. “Clothes.”

“Ah. Nothing. Clothes,” Kankuro repeated. “May I see?” He made to step closer to the boxes but the woman moved too once again.

“No.”

He paused.

“And why not?”

There was no reason to not show him the contents of these boxes. And the woman knew it. Kankuro waited for a reply and it was in the silence that followed that he heard it.

A tiny whimper.

Then a louder one.

The scarred woman’s only working eye widened.

“Ah, so clothes that…squeal?”

One of the boys entered the ten at that moment with another bag of grain. He flopped if down on the ground before noticing the tension in the air. Himiko watched anxiously as Kankuro took out his kunai and gestured at the boy. “Go open that box, please.”

For a second, no one did anything. Kankuro sighed and pocketed the kunai. “Fine, I’ll do it myself then.” He flicked his wrist and the chakra strings he’d quietly been snaking towards the crates attached themselves and removed the loose lids with a loud bang.

The woman shrieked at the movement behind her before resigning herself in defeat. Although, she looked like if Himiko wasn’t there she would be attempting to give Kankuro a scar equal to her own.

She moved out of the way and Kankuro silently attached some string to her and the boy in case they tried to run away.

In the boxes lay a number of scratchy blankets and when he pulled them back it revealed a collection of small hungry-looking dogs. _Ninken_ actually. One young dog, unmoving, had a Hidden Leaf headband wrapped around her neck and six wriggling puppies beside her. One extra pup also wasn’t moving. The smell was repugnant, as the puppies were covered in their own filth. The dead pup and mother had been dead a few days.

“Ah, jeez.”

The other box contained the corpses of seven different ninken, all heavily scarred, and clearly suffocated by the large blankets and heavy stones placed on top of them. Three mangy looking dogs were still alive, their scarred hides recoiled in fear as he looked into the box.

The teen boy began to sob into his hands as Himiko gasped loudly.

“Asuka! What?” She exclaimed, looking at the scarred woman. This was clearly a woman Himiko interacted with on a daily basis and put her trust in. The woman could only stare at the ground. Her eyes were closed.

“Did you instruct these boys to kill these dogs?” Kankuro asked.

“Yes,” he said though gritted teeth.

“ _Why_?” Himiko asked with her hand still raised to her mouth.

“They’re ninken,” he explained. “ Shinobi-trained canines. Judging by the Konoha headband and the scars, they were stolen and used for dog fighting. Asuka here, would be breeding them for sport. And money. Am I wrong?”

“ _You_ ,” she spat at Kankuro. “Could never understand.”

The old merchant and the other boy chose that moment to enter the tent with the last bag of wheat.

“There! All done!” He was as cheerful as ever. “Ew. What’s that smell?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankuro returns to Suna

Kankuro has had some missions that went south. He’s had some missions that went sideways. He’s even had some missions that got completely turned around and flipped upside down. And all through that, he keeps his cool. He’s known for his ability to keep a level-head and not make rash decisions in the field. He’d found himself very adaptable over the years to situations that others wished to abscond from. He'd gotten better at thinking before he made action. The worry he'd felt as a teen was a distant memory. 

Kankuro worries a lot about Gaara, though.

It’s a gnawing concern, but it’s one that isn’t constantly felt. Like an unconscious emotion it rouses throughout his day whenever he observes Gaara ignoring a social nicety to the chagrin of officials. Or the look of strain he catches in his eyes when a noble is complaining that he can’t water his prize roses due to the water restrictions. Or when he removes himself to the desert for a few hours to a day at a time with no explanation or excuse. The role of the Kazekage is often a social job, and it unsettles Kankuro to think that his brother may struggle with the day-to-day tasks of being the Village leader. He has watched Gaara take down the strongest of enemies and barely be out of breath afterwards. But only after a long day of meetings does Kankuro catch him wearily massaging his eye sockets with his small fingers, or sighing like he hasn’t had a chance to take a deep breath all day.

In those moments, Kankuro thinks Gaara looks _exhausted_.

And Kankuro can’t _fix it._

It makes him feel _weak._

Then the worry builds up in his chest. The feeling of inadequacy he’s struggled with since he was a child. That not so distant memory. It constricts in his throat and sweet saliva fills his mouth. He swallows again and again and again but it won’t stop coming. A static pain spreads from his breastbone and it reminds him of the panic he’d felt for much of his later childhood.

The first time he’d felt true panic, and not just apprehension, was when he was nine. He’d stumbled into his father’s office holding a a large puppet in his small arms. It’s many limbs clacked loudly in the quiet space as he lumbered with it to his father’s desk. Some dust fell to the floor as Kankuro manhandled into an upright position. It’s mouth hung open in a gape revealing the soft glint of blades inside.

Kankuro thought it was the coolest thing he'd ever seen.

He held his newfound curio up to his father in askance. He wanted to keep it. He wanted to train with it. Kankuro could tell it was a shinobi’s weapon and he wanted to know _more_.

Rasa took one look at the puppet. “No,” he said, dispassionately. “You don’t have the chakra control to be a puppeteer. Put it back where you found it.”

“But, Da-

“-Go read the just scrolls I gave you. You need to study. Your sister, and your _younger_ brother, have already mastered them.”

“But maybe I could-“

“-Why do you think you have any reason to challenge the Kazekage?” He was always ‘the Kazekage’ in those days. Rasa gave an exasperated sigh. He hadn’t stopped writing whatever report he was working on once to even look at his son. “Especially with you being so talentless. Useless to me,” he muttered, as if to himself.

But Kankuro was _right there_ and he felt the bottom fall out of his stomach at his father’s words. Red hot shame flamed to life on his face and neck and he felt a prickling in his eyes. He couldn’t cry here. It was just that the scrolls his father gave him must have some sort of genjutsu attached. The words jumped around the page and it made Kankuro’s head hurt trying to follow them. He couldn’t _understand_. He clutched the head of the puppet tighter to him to try and hide his face. It came away with a pop in his arms and rolled to the side, exposing him to the man across the desk.

Rasa looked up at the fat tears that trembled in Kankuro’s vision and once the first drop broke free, he gave a sound of disgust before calling for his aide. “Yahaba?”

A white-turbaned head appeared at the door. The Chuunin’s eyes flashed to the crying Kankuro in front of his father’s desk, the puppet head rolled across the floor and the Kazekage who continued writing his report impassively ignoring everything around him. He waved his pen in Kankuro’s direction. “Remove this.” The aide walked over and grabbed Kankuro by the wrist, dragging him towards the door. He bent to grab the head of the puppet by the hair on the way out.

“Kankuro, you will need to get a bit tougher to criticism if you want to impress me,” his father called out as Kankuro tripped over one of the puppet’s arms on his way out. “In Suna, we are made of tougher stuff. No more tears. It’s weak.”

The aide dumped him in the room that unofficially had always been their playroom. Or rather, their study room, as Rasa had never encouraged them to play. Especially after the loss of their mother. They were to study and to get stronger. Or they were useless to him.

Like Kankuro.

The Chuunin threw the head of the puppet in to the room after him and it clanged on the ground with a strange metallic wrenching sound. Some of the hair had come loose and a clump wafted to the floor. Kankuro tried to reach for Yahaba on his way out. “Please! Don’t! I’ll be good!” But the aide kicked him away and closed the door with a sneer.A distinct click of the lock turning could be heard.

Kankuro wasn’t to disturb his father again today.

He pulled himself up to sit beside the door before reaching over shakily to grab the head off the floor. He cradled the doll and attempted to straighten out the spiked rough hair with damp fingers. It’s three eyes were soon revealed and Kankuro noted the amount of dust and a strange purple oil coated on his hands.

“We’ll have to clean you up,” he said, with a wobble. “Maybe Father will like you if…” Kankuro trailed off his sentence and he scrunched up his face as his eyes filled with tears once again.

Kankuro didn’t know what it would take to make his father like him.

He curled himself around the puppet and cried until he struggled to breathe.

The doorknob jiggled and a thump sounded, like someone had just thrown their full body into opening the door, not expecting it to be locked.

“That’s weird.” It was Temari. She must have come back from the training grounds to help Kankuro study his scrolls. He always learned better when she demonstrated for him. He attempted to stifle his sobs but clearly he was unsuccessful. “Kankuro? Why is the door locked? Can you open it?”

“N-No,” he coughed out. Desperately, he tried to wipe the tears from his eyes. He felt the thick dust and oil coat his face and knew Temari would immediately chastise him for dirtying himself. “Ya-Yaha-ba lo-cked.” His chest heaved a quick hiccup. “I-it.”

“…Again!?”

Kankuro didn’t respond. The hiccups endured and suddenly, he couldn’t seem to get a deep breath into his lungs at all. He let out a gasp and with a frightened whimper, he called out his sister’s name. He couldn’t breath. His mouth opened and shut uselessly as if the simulation of inhalation would provide him with the air he desperately needed. Fear was clouding his vision with more tears. _Help me! Temari! Please!_ Distantly, he could heard his name being called but his frantic and useless panting was cloying his senses.

He heard a loud bang and then there was Temari was filling his view, her hands on either side of his face. She was talking to him and he tried to focus, knowing she would help him. she wasn't much older than him but displayed a maturity beyond her eleven years.

“Look at me. Kankuro! Look at me! Nothing else, just me. Okay now, focus. You’ll be fine. Now put your hands on my chest.” He scrambled to pull his weak arms to her, his fingers clutched at her collarbones. “Okay, good. Now breath with me. Pause, and in…two…three.” Kankuro did as he was told and inhaled on a shaky and rattling breath. Sweet air trickled into his lungs. Temari was nodding. Her chest began to deflate. “And out…two…three. Pause. Great, Kankuro. Now again. In…two…three. Hold it. Now, out…two…three.”

It took fifteen minutes for Kankuro’s breathing to return to normal that day. Temari held him the entire time and coaxed the breaths out of him until he felt well enough for her to thump him on the head and tell him to not listen to their asshole of a father. Kankuro wondered where she'd learned to deal with this kind of situation. This _weakness_.

“He’s right though, Temari. I am weak.”

“He’s not right! Just cause he’s the _Kazekage_ doesn’t mean he’s right!”

Kankuro doesn’t respond. He rubs his eyes again and the purple oil must smear some more over his face because Temari sticks her thumb in her mouth and tries to wipe at his cheek to remove the grime. “What is this stuff?” She asked and he points to the head of the puppet on the ground beside him.

“What the _hell_ is that thing?” He laughed at her repulsed tone and inspects the puppet. The hair at the back of it’s head had fallen forward to reveal a purple-inked word.

“Karasu.”

“It’s creepy,” she said. “But it looks like a shinobi puppet.”

“It is.” He showed her the blades inside the mouth.

“Careful with those. The Suna puppeteers often used poison.”

“Really?” He eyes lit up with excitement. With poison he could dismantle his enemies without them even knowing. He didn’t need the fancy jutsus then. He thought for a moment about the tea his father requested twice a day. It was often tested before serving. Some people had tried to poison him before.

“Hey,” said Temari, snapping him from his thoughts. “I’ll help you with the scrolls on puppetry if you’d like. They are in the library at home.”

Kankuro wrapped his arms around his sister with delight. “Yes, please!”

After that, Kankuro had taken to wearing the black garb and cosmetic makeup of a shadow puppeteer he'd observed in one scroll about famous shinobi assassins. He’d crushed up berries and added some of his water rations to some talcum powder in their small bathroom at home. Carefully, Kankuro applied the concoctions in a line across his nose and two lines down his face, trailing over his eyes until it reached his jaw. It was the same pattern as the puppeteer in his scroll. It looked _amazing_. His eyes brimmed with tears once again as he relished in his new look. His father was sure to instruct him to take it off straight away. A tear rolled down his cheek and took with it the thin paste and berry juice. He hastily applied more to cover the tear tracks and he realised that he would have to be done with crying if he wanted to keep this mask on permanently.

A week later, Gaara crushed Yahaba’s head in a cloud of sand. Kankuro didn’t know why.

He didn’t cry.

-

Kankuro runs back to Suna after he’s finished getting the whole story out of the Episarian’s. The teen who had cried when the dead ninken were revealed didn’t last long under Kankuro’s scrutiny.Almost as soon as Kankuro got him alone, Karasu whirled out of one of Kankuro’s small scrolls. It had been quite a while since Karasu’s outer cloak had been washed (a task Kankuro should have done in his time off) so the many blood stains that adorned the fabric did most of the work for him.Within thirty seconds of the puppet hanging menacingly above him, the boy was spilling details about the whole Episar operation. The lad must have been barely fourteen years old and maybe not overly exposed to the bladed gaping maw of a shinobi’s puppet. It took fifteen minutes to get everything he wanted from him, aided by a lot of flinching whenever Kankuro finger twitched, bringing the leering puppet closer to his detainee. Kankuro broke one of his fingers anyway. It would help with the boy's reputation.

The desert landscape rushed past him in a blur as he spotted the outcropping that enclosed the Hidden Village of Sunagakure far in the distance. He cast his eyes east for a moment, looking in the direction of Episar. He couldn’t see anything but the clear horizon. It was a hot day, hotter than usual, and the light danced in the far-flung reaches of the desert. For a second, Kankuro thought he spied a mountain range; the next moment it was gone.

A mirage.

His feet thumping against the sand was the only sound in the otherwise heavy silence that stretched out around him. Sweat was pooling on his face and he could feel his paint collecting in the crevices of his nose and mouth. Slowing down to a stop, he spat on the ground and saw his glob of saliva was tinged purple. The air was dry and no wind was picking up the sand. Even still, he could feel the grit of dust on his face and he could smell the oily residue along with the acrid stench of sweat from his own body. He chugged from his water pouch.

Kankuro groaned and shifted his shoulders, feeling the material of his damp cloak chafing at the movement.

This is why he didn’t like running in the desert.

He removed his hood and pulled the sleeved cloak over his head. There wasn’t much relief. Not only was there no breeze to cool him down, the short-sleeved black turtleneck he wore underneath chafed at his neck leaving what he imagined was an angry red rash. At least his pants were loose, they flowed outwards before gathering halfway down his calves. Temari always called them his ‘harem’ pants, with a chuckle. She often made fun of his style choices but this outfit definitely was one she got the most teasing material out of.

“You live in the _desert, Kankuro_. Why do you have so many _black_ layers?! It’s like Desert 101! ‘Do not wear black if you wanna have a bad time.’”

“Shut up, Temari!” He growled at her. “I dress cool!”

“Cool?” She laughed. “Then why do you always reek of sweat! You dress warm, you idiot!”

“At least I’m not such a failure of a woman I can only do my hair in pigtails like a four-year-old.”

She’d made a gasp then, as if affronted. Placing her hand over her heart, she said “Kankuro, you know I struggled with not having a maternal figure growing up to show me these things. How could you say that?” She then turned to Gaara as if to seek consolation and their little brother would ponder the two of them carefully before adding; “Kankuro, that was little harsh.”

“Don’t listen to her bullshit, Gaara!” And Temari would smile devilishly until Gaara looked back at her where she’d quickly put on her most injured expression.

“Kankuro, you should apologise.”

“Ugh…This is so dumb!”

“Our dead mother is dumb?!” Temari said.

“Oh, shut up, Tem! You know what I mean!”

“Kankuro,” prompted Gaara.

“Okay!…Sorry for saying your hairstyle is dumb despite the severe lack of a female role model in your pitiful life.” His apology was grumbled between reluctant lips and his hands were folded. He stared at a point above both their heads, refusing to look at his siblings.

Gaara seemed happy with it.

“Now, Temari. Apologise to Kankuro for mocking his clothes.” Kankuro unfolded his arms and shouted an enthusiastic “Yeah!” at his sister.

“No matter how awfully chosen they may be,” Gaara added with a wry smile.

Temari cackled.

“You are both the worst siblings anyone could end up with,” Kankuro said, and blurred out of the building.

Now, in the middle of the scorching desert, he’s regretting his choice. He hopes he doesn’t pick up a sun burn on his forearms on the remaining portion of his journey as he packs up his cape and continues on.

He’d never tell his siblings that though.

-

Gaara doesn’t show any emotion while Kankuro gives him his report of the incident at the port town. His chin leans on his linked hands with his elbows propped on the desk in front of him. Usually, Kankuro can glean a lot from his expressions. When Gaara quirks his brow it tells him he’s very interested in what you are saying. When his bottom teeth and jaw move forward slightly it shows Kankuro that his brother is very very annoyed with the person or situation he is experiencing. When Gaara’s head tilted to the side, he’s thinking very carefully about a problem that needs to be solved and would like you to prompt him so he can share it to get your view on the situation.

Today though, he’s getting nothing. Nada. Gaara is a complete blank slate. Kankuro feels like one of the laypeople who aren’t privy to his brother’s barely-there moods and quirks. It’s unnerving. He supposes that’s how normal people feel around the Kazekage. Kankuro certainly remembers a time when _he_ felt like this all the time.

So he does something he wouldn’t have dreamed of just ten years ago.

He asks Gaara what he’s thinking.

“What are you thinking?”

Gaara raises his eyes to Kankuro and invites him to sit. He leans back in his chair and uncharacteristically bounces against the back of the seat.

“This is a weird situation,” he says.

 _No kidding_ , he thinks. It wasn’t Kankuro’s average day.

A group of Episar refugees leave their city to live a better life on the coast of Wind Country. Two months later, two shady Episarian men arrive at their camp during the night and tells them to hold on to some ninken for them. One of the dogs is pregnant. They aren’t in good shape. He pays them handsomely. They say they will be back, and if anyone comes sniffing around, they were to destroy the dogs. And to put the female in pup again as soon as possible. The refugees turn a blind eye to the Konoha headband of the ninken who delivers the puppies. 

Kankuro ponders the situation before he found the dogs.

“You know, what I don’t get though, Gaara, is why were they so _hostile_ towards me?”

“There’s a reason for that,” says Gaara. “Episarians and their current ruler _hate_ the people of Suna, especially the Kazekage.”

“What? Why?”

Gaara stops bouncing on his chair and just leans back instead. He looks at Kankuro from an angle. He looks weirdly relaxed.

“Our father had the last leader of Episar assassinated. He was beloved by his people. Rasa just wanted him gone so he could seize more water from them as the King, they have royalty there, refused. It was a time of intense drought, more so than usual. Our father had him killed and took the water in an underground transfer system which we still use today. A third of the population of Episar died trying to protect their resource.It wasn't widely publicised, but everyone knew anyway. They’ve never trusted or forgiven us since.”

“Jeez…what an asshole.”

“I agree.”

Kankuro also leans back in his chair and he can bet the two of them are both thinking about the debris their father had left behind for them to clean up. Gaara definitely go the brunt of it.

“So, someone in Episar is stealing and smuggling ninken. Definitely from Konoha, and possibly from other Hidden Villages too. Our father assassinated their leader, probably decimated their political system and tanked their economy, so their leader will never trust us. And we still tap into their resources to sustain our village. Do we pay them for the water?”

Gaara’s jaw moves forward. “Not enough.”

“And we underpay them for the water. Christ…what a diplomatic shitshow.” He sighed and thinks of the refugees once again. The distrust and outright disgust in their eyes makes sense now.

“What’s our next step?” He says, sitting up to regard his brother.

Gaara sits up also and grabs his pen and a small strip of paper used for hawk messages to other villages. “First,” he says, writing in his careful script. “We contact Konoha.”

-

A week later finds Kankuro waiting outside the village entrance. He watches as a large black speck on the horizon shifts in and out of his vision in the baking heat.

 _I’m sending Inuzuka Kiba_ , the letter from Kakashi had said, _a ninken expert._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm splitting this chapter up. I said Kiba would appear in chapter four. A speck on the horizon counts, right?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiba arrives in Suna

Kankuro felt really hypocritical saying this, but Inuzuka Kiba was not dressed appropriately for the desert.

He didn’t even think he was dressed appropriately for Konoha this time of year. As far as he could remember, as it now approached summer, temperatures were definitely high enough not to warrant wearing a fleece-lined lambskin coat. It swamped him entirely, from mid-thigh all the way up to the back of his head. The collar was popped up and his scruffy shoulder-length hair fanned out across it. Kankuro caught a glimpse of a mesh shirt beneath the jacket. At least that would be some reprieve from the heat.

Kiba’s headband glinted in the sun as he swung his leg over his ninken and jumped to the ground. “Hey, puppet-dude! It’s hot out here!”

Kankuro rolled his eyes at the moinker, and the obvious statement.

“Long time, no see. Welcome back to Suna,” he said, remembering that Kiba had been one of the shinobi who attended the Chuunin exams here years earlier.Kankuro moved forward and offered his hand towards the other shinobi. Kiba’s hands were big, and strong, as he slapped his in Kankuro’s and shook firmly. His mouth curved in upbeat smile, revealing rows of white teeth. The protruding canines drew Kankuro’s eyes, and he then panned downwards to the shadow of stubble on his jaw. Moving lower, he followed a bead of sweat as it trailed down over a thick neck, until it reached a thin leather chord wrapped twice around his neck. A pendant hung at the end of it, but it was contained underneath his mesh shirt. Kankuro lost focus when he noticed how tight the netting stretched across the other’s chest. The small opening of the unfastened jacket showed everything.

Wait, was Inuzuka Kiba was _hot_ now? When had that happened?

Kankuro licked his lip and lifted his head. Kiba's soft, brown eyes were narrowed in consideration. And his nose wrinkled slightly as he scented the air. Kankuro realised he’d been caught staring and pulled his hand back from the already too-long handshake. Was it obvious he’d been checking Kiba out?

He coughed slightly, trying unsuccessfully to shake off the feeling of a hand griping his heart. “It’s always hot here, actually." Smooth, Kankuro. Hot. In a desert. “Obviously. You might wanna take off your coat.” Inuzuka Kiba had got hot. So what? He needed to get a grip. A grip of that di-

Kankuro cut off the thought before it could finish. What the fuck was wrong with him? This dude was unkempt as fuck and _reeked_ of dog. His jacket was literally encrusted in unidentifiable stains and covered in fur. But, still, Kankuro was finding him ridiculously attractive.

Inuzuka Kiba tilted his handsome head before his entire demeanor shifted to one of confidence and invitation. Kankuro would say it was almost predatory.

He kicked up a heel and leaned back on Akamaru. Dropping his head back until his neck was bared, he watched Kankuro with heavy-lidded eyes. One fang reached down and bit his lip as if in contemplation. He hummed appreciatively. “‘Welcome to Suna. Take off your clothes.’ My, you desert folk sure are forward.” He arched his eyebrows suggestively.

Kankuro’s heart thumped in his chest. Hard. He could feel his face heat up and was glad for his layers of face paint that hid his surely red complexion.

“Oh my god,” he exclaimed. “Obviously, I didn’t mean it like that, dog-breath!”

Akamaru growled lowly. Kiba only laughed.

“Now, you’ve only gone and offended Akamaru. Tsk. Tsk. I’m sure he’ll forgive you, though…if you let him play with one of your dolls.”

How cheeky was this guy? And why was it sending Kankuro’s chest all aflutter.

Aflutter?

Ew.

He took a deep breath and resolved to be the better person. He wasn’t going to retort to Kiba’s banter. He was nearly twenty-three years old, goddammit.

And yet here he was blushing like a school girl who’d gotten her crush’s attention. At this stage his own face must be as red as own Kiba’s fang markings. They accentuated his features and drew your gaze to his eyes and mouth, as if to say “Look here, look how attractive I am.” Kankuro shook his head slightly.

“Oh shut up, you two wouldn’t last five minutes against my ‘dolls’, Inuzuka.”

“Is that a challenge?” The suggestive tone still dripped from Kiba’s words. Kankuro watched as another beat of sweat ran down his exposed neck.

Kankuro tore his eyes away and Kiba snickered. “Maybe. C’mon, follow me. You’re here for a reason after all. The Kazekage is waiting.”

-

Kiba did take off his jacket. He slung it back over his shoulder, hooking the tag inside over the index and middle fingers of his left hand. They walked side-by-side through the village and Kankuro noted that Kiba reached in height to Kankuro’s eye level. He could see the top of his head, and he smirked to himself at the small victory.

Kiba had his own smirk on his face. But he stared straight ahead at the spherical building in the centre of the village. Akamaru padded along to Kiba’s left. He was furiously sniffing the air and ground every chance he could.

The ninken was huge. Big enough that Kiba could ride on his back. It was definitely the biggest dog that Kankuro had ever seen. His white fur rustled as he walked and there was a rhythmical thump when his paws hit the sandy road.

Kankuro wondered if the pups they found would grow that tall. Not likely, thinking of the size of their mother. They’d been transported earlier in the week along with two of the adult dogs from the other crate. The third dog had died on the journey.

“Do all ninken grow big like Akamaru?” He asked, trying to take his mind off the contents of the crates.

Kiba didn’t seem surprised by the question. “Some,” he said. “My clan is known for it. Other clans breed for stealth. Some for tracking. Some for hunting. It depends, really. Akamaru is the envy of all though,” he said, patting his friends side. Akamaru barked loudly. A couple, walking by, jumped at the sound, then giggled to each other at their shock.

“I wonder what you’ll identify from our ninken…,” mused Kankuro.

“I’m glad you guys found them,” admitted Kiba. Kankuro met his eyes once again. “I’ll identify them and we’ll get to the bottom of this. You can count on me.”

Kankuro smiled back at him.

Gaara wasn’t in his office when they arrived, although his aide let them in and informed them he’d be there shortly. Kankuro instructed Kiba to sit while they waited and the two sat in what Kankuro felt like was an awkward silence. In reality, they didn’t know each other that well, and the Kazekage’s office didn’t seem like the place for the easy banter from before. Kiba turned around in his seat, inspecting every aspect of the office and sniffing the air experimentally.

“Stop sniffing.”

Kiba sighed and leaned back. He started reading the titles of the books on the book shelf to the side. His eyes widened when he reached the shelf of non-plant related literature.

Gaara teleported into his chair in a cloud of sand just as Kiba asked “Why does your brother have a porn book in his office?”

Kiba jumped slightly at the quick appearance. Gaara only glanced over at the bookshelf before opening the file waiting on his desk.

“It was a gift,” he said. And that was the end of that. Kiba looked at Kankuro and mouthed _Kakashi_? He shook his head and mouth back, _Naruto_. Kiba nodded in understanding.

“Welcome, Inuzuka Kiba. I want to thank you, and Konoha, for lending Suna your expertise. We have much to discuss. Let’s begin,” said Gaara.

He proceeded to tell Kiba the whole report, from start to finish. Although the information they knew right now was still pretty lacklustre. But they had managed to confirm that the illegal trade of ninken was currently operating to a high level in Episar. More so than they had originally thought.

“The clear issue, they are stealing these ninken from other villages. This causes a diplomatic concern on top of the smuggling. We’re going to move forward with dismantling this from the inside out. But first, we need to do some groundwork.”

Gaara produced a small wrapped parcel and slid it across to Kiba.

“This is the Konoha headband we retrieved from the refugee camp at Port Kyoka. It’s available for your inspection. We’d like you to assess the health of the ninken. We’ve moved them to a facility here in Sunagakure. Kankuro will bring you there, but you should drop your things off at the barracks first. Kankuro, I trust you can get Inuzuka-san settled?”

Kiba cast him a side-long glance as he out the parcel into a pouch at his hip. Kankuro could feel his knowing look boring into the side of his face.

“Of course, I can get him settled,” he said. The swelling feeling was still coursing through his torso at Kiba’s advances. He was nervous to be alone with him. The Konoha ninja was impulsive, that was sure. And as such, Kankuro couldn’t predict his actions. It was throwing him off his guard.

“Good,” said Gaara. “Inuzuka-san, if you would wait downstairs for a moment? I need to speak of a private matter with my brother.”

If Kiba was taken aback, he didn't show it. “No problem. I’ll meet you out front with Akamaru.” The ninken was too large to fit into the halls of the buildings and so had to wait outside. It had taken them quite a while for Kiba to locate a suitably cool area of shade and a barrel of water for his friend. Kankuro was shocked to see the dog drink what was almost a half-a day’s rations in one go, but put it down to his long journey. The Suna-nin nearby all paled as Kiba reached for a bucket and dunked the water over Akamaru’s body. Such a thing, in Suna, was considered incredibly wasteful.

Kiba left, and Gaara got straight down to business.

“The Council have already lined up some marriage options they would like you to review,” he said as he reached for a green folder in his top drawer.He hands Kankuro the file. “I told them you would look them over, but you’d need a few days to decide.”

Fuck.

The excitement of the last hour completely dampened in Kankuro’s chest as he reached over and grabbed the file. “Thanks.” He flicked through the folder quickly, and noted there was no pictures attached to any, counting about six sheets of paper. “Least they are giving me options.” He closed the file with a sigh and tucked it into his shirt under his cloak, out of sight. “Thanks for giving me a few days. Although, it's gonna be hard to decide with no pictures, eh? They must all be ugly, Gaara!” The attempt at a joke seemed to placate Gaara somewhat, but the frown didn’t leave his brow.

“You should follow Inuzuka-san,” he concluded. “Make sure you instruct him on our water rationing system.”

“Will do.” He left the office with his mouth curved into a smile. It dropped almost as soon as he was out of his brother’s sight. He was thinking of all the little advances and come-ons Kiba had been dropping left, right and centre. And how he desperately wanted to respond to him. The reminder that he wasn’t a free man now weighed heavy on his chest. Literally. The edge of the green folder dug uncomfortably into his collar bone.

He groaned.

The rest of this day was gonna be torture.

-

“So wait, this is all the water we have per day?”

Kiba was holding two plastic canteens in either hand. A Suna citizen was expected to use no more than ten litres of water per day for drinking, cooking and cleaning. Although most could survive on eight litres, like Kankuro himself.

“Yes. Your can fill up these canteens once per day from the community pump. It’s just outside in the courtyard.” They had passed it on their way here to the barracks. It wasn’t as busy a pump as some others across the village, with only about three people waiting for their turn. A Suna officialwas stationed at every pump, they noted down exactly who had come to collect and made sure they didn’t take more than their fill. It was usually a right of passage for genin to be stationed at one of these pumps for a week or two. Downstairs, a sweaty genin monitored the courtyard pump with the utmost of intensity.

“Akamaru drinks more than this in a day,” informed Kiba, shaking the plastic can in Kankuro’s face.

“How much does Akamaru weigh?”

“Eighty kilograms”

“Okay so…eighty kilograms..,” Kankuro murmured to himself as he calculated the maths in his head. He held his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “A twenty five kilogram dog needs about three litres a day, like us. So Akamaru needs…nine-point-six litres. Plenty.”

Kiba gaped at him. “How’d you-Nevermind. Have you factored in that Akamaru isn’t adapted to his desert heat and so will sweat more. Meaning he’ll need more fluids than usual?”

Kankuro hadn’t factored that in.“Hmmm.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“You could share yours I suppose. We’ve been generous to you also. You also don’t need to cook. Your meals are provided down in the mess hall. Generally you’ll drink three litres, use three litres for bathing and the rest for cooking or extra cleaning. You can share that with Akamaru instead.

“Bathing? You don’t have showers or baths?”

“We have sponge baths. Pour your water into the bowl in your bathroom, and then you dip and wash.”

Kiba looked horrified. He looked down at his own body as if calculating the amount of water needed for each limb. He’d thrown his jacket on the small cot in the corner of the room. They’d given him one of the larger rooms in the barracks as a large mat was brought in to accomodate Akamaru. Kankuro gestured for Kiba to follow him to the adjoining washroom. The entirety of the room was tiled. In one corner was a stool and large basin. A new sponge lay wrapped to the side. “The toilets are down the hall. You use this room for washing.” Kiba ducked his head in before brushing past Kankuro and reaching for the sponge, which he unwrapped and squeezed.

“It’s soft.”

“Yeah.” Kankuro noted how close they were standing in the small room. He could feel the heat of Kiba’s body on the exposed part of his forearm and it made him shuffled awkwardly. He couldn’t get past Kiba and out the door without brushing up against him entirely, so he waited for the other man to finish his inspection.

Kiba also seemed to notice their close quarters. His nose wiggled again as he sniffed loudly. To Kankuro's surprise, he pressed the sponge against Kankuro’s sternum, holding him were he was. Kankuro couldn’t help but focus on his eyes, which were darting back and forth inspecting his face. They were a more complicated brown than he’d originally thought. Different to Kankuro’s own, flecks of hazel fanned out from the pupil, which melted into a deep sienna. It reminded Kankuro of the rocky crags that encased the village, providing protection from the elements and enemies alike. A white pointed fang escaped Kiba’s mouth as he bit his lip exactly like earlier. Kankuro knew what was coming.

Kiba's voice dropped to a low suggestive tone. “Maybe later, you could show me _exactly_ how to sponge bath?”

The fire smouldered in Kankuro’s chest once again as the request fell between them. He inhaled sharply. God, he _wanted_. He wanted that so bad. It had been an age since he’d last had someone this into him. And Kiba was _gorgeous_.

Kiba pressed his hand into his chest, hard, as if to push him back against the wall. Kankuro resisted and instead, Kiba drew impossibly closer until their breaths mingled in the small space and dragged his hand up Kankuro’s sternum.

A sobering crinkle brought Kankuro back to reality. 

“What is that?” Kiba reached up with his other hand to feel the hard ridge of the file. It crinkled loudly once again.

“Nothing!” Kankuro hastily grabbed Kiba’s wrists and pushed him back.

He wasn’t about to explain to Kiba the whole situation. Oh hey, this is just a file which contains my marriage options. Because, I’m getting married. To a woman. Soon. And it’s being chosen for me. Because it’s super duper arranged. Yippee.

Yeah, that didn’t sound _pathetic_ at all.

Kankuro was still clutching Kiba’s wrists in his own gloved hands. He released them quickly and made to push past him into the bedroom. As he’d thought, his entirely body brushed up against the smaller man’s and its was every bit as solid as he’s imagined. Kiba smelt strongly of dog, but also faintly of forest. It was a familiar earthy scent Kankuro. He shivered and tried to memorise it. Something to think about later when he was alone. He’d allow himself that.

Right now, he was going to have to do the last thing he wanted.

“Hey, so, look. I’d like if moving forward we could keep this strictly professional,” he said without looking at the other man now leaning against the doorframe of the washroom. “And I’m not into guys. So, there's that.”

Kankuro hoped that his obvious blushing and flustered actions now came across as the embarrassment from not knowing how to reject Kiba’s advances. Rather than what they were. Which was searing attraction.

He risked a glance at the other man. Kiba’s eyes were narrowed and suspicious.

“Didn’t you drunkenly make-out with Shino last time you were in Konoha? You know everyone knows about that, right?”

Dammit. He had. He’s just wanted to feel what that bug boy was hiding under those layers. And he had. What he’d felt scared him.

“So, what are you lying for?” Kiba was persistent. His arms were folded into a defensive stance. "I know you're into me. I can smell it." 

Oh god, he could _smell_ Kankuro's attraction.

Kiba advanced once again, but Kankuro brought his hands up defensively. 

“I’m not...I just want to stay professional. You are here to do your job, you know? Ninken are dead, or have you forgotten?” It sounded pathetic to his ears. Kankuro winced internally at the insinuation that Kiba wasn’t taking his job seriously.

Kiba growled aggressively. “Fine then. Let’s go, dickhead,” he said as he stomped out of the room. His expression was stormy and his lips peeled back to show his fangs. It seemed to be an unwitting action. He’s forgotten his jacket.

Kankuro was under the distinct impression that once again, he’d fucked up. He adjusted the folder under his shirt to sit a little more comfortably and followed Kiba out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late! Gonna be totally honest, I played Animal Crossing all last weekend when I should have been writing this. Have a few days off work though so I might get an extra chapter out this week to make up for it x
> 
> P.S. One day, I may write the drunken Shino/Kankuro make-out if anyone's interested. I'm not adding a tag for this btw.
> 
> As always sorry for any mistakes, I'll re-read again later. I've edited this four times now I just can't see them anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiba and Kankuro clash.

Akamaru was waiting for them in the courtyard below. Kiba was already there, with an audience. He chatted animatedly to the genin water attendant who was carefully petting Akamaru’s snout, at Kiba’s encouragement. Kankuro couldn’t help but admire the mirthful expression on his face as he nudged Akamaru forward to lick the boy from chin to forehead. Kiba erupted into laughter, and it echoed off the walls of the courtyard. A snicker escaped his own mouth at the genin’s initial disgusted squawk and how he shoved his face into the crook of his elbow to wipe away the dog’s saliva. Kiba’s head turned in his direction and his wicked delight morphed into a sneer. The easy camaraderie from before had evaporated in the blink of an eye.

A flash of irritation coursed through him and he clenched his jaw in an effort to not to challenge the other man. It wasn’t _his_ fault he had to rebuff him, goddammit.

Trying to ignore the stab of irritation in his throat, and the tightening of his fists, Kankuro slid his hands into his pockets and began walking towards the large arch at the far end of courtyard. It was the entrance and exit to the barracks. Where the pump was stationed allowed it’s attendant to keep an eye on everyone who came and went into the barracks. Provided they used the door of course.

“Back to your post, genin,” he ordered. The words came out gruffer than he intended, after he noticed Kiba’s eyes darting away, as if the thought of even looking at Kankuro was contemptuous to him.

“Yes, Kankuro-sama!” The genin scurried back over to the water pump and scooped his abandoned clipboard from the ground. His face was flushed with embarrassment, likely at being caught away from his post by such a senior shinobi in the village. It reminded Kankuro of his own foolish reactions to Kiba’s overtures earlier.

Suddenly Akamaru cut ahead of him, without looking his way, and Kankuro had to stand back to avoid getting trampled by the overgrown fur ball of a dog. Kiba was now astride the ninken’s back, enthralling the attention of the young genin once again. He watched with wonder as the two strode through the courtyard to wait beneath the arch. He paused and finally spoke to Kankuro. “Well, what are you waiting for, Kankuro- _sama_?”

The sarcasm was clear, and the genin shifted uncomfortably as he eyed Kankuro and Kiba, his gaze shifting between them.

Kankuro’s irritation exploded in his chest. How dare he? Who does he think he is? But rather than challenge Kiba, he turned to the boy.“How much longer is your shift?” He asked though gritted teeth.

The boy squeaked in surprise. “One hour, sir!” He stood ramrod straight and stared at the wall of the courtyard above the arch.Kankuro levelled him with his best authoritative stare. The one he usually saved for men twice this boy's age. He couldn’t be older than twelve or thirteen.

“Make it three,” he ordered. He heard a grunt of disapproval from behind him. The genin remained in military stature, although his eyes widened.“Don’t stray from your post again or I’ll consider it abandonment of duties. Understand?”

“Yes, sir, Kankuro-sama, sir!” The boys eyes were glassy, and his hands trembled, but Kankuro noticed he never wavered as they left the courtyard.

-

The other man ignored him completely the entire journey to the kennels, and led them as if he knew exactly the path to their destination. Kankuro held back a bit, and after three correct turns in a row, realised that Kiba _did_ know the way to the kennels.

His nose must be keener than he thought.

“Nice nose, Inuzuka,” he jeered. The silence was beginning to make him uncomfortable.

Kiba ignored him.

Kankuro ignored him ignoring him.

“So what’s your thought process here? Cos’ how I see it is, I rejected you and now I’m get the silent treatment. Wow, what a nice guy you are.” Kankuro put a smug grin on his face and made sure to tilt his head up so Kiba could see. He was still petulantly riding Akamaru through the streets. Side-by-side, they looked ridiculous.

“Oh, fuck you!” Kiba was practically glowing in the heat of his anger. “As if I would do something so petty! I’m not like you.” He swung his leg over the side of Akamaru and jumped down to the ground and right into Kankuro’s personal space.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He bit back.

Kiba planted an accusing finger in the middle of Kankuro’s chest. “You punished that genin because he was having fun _with me_.”

A snort escaped Kankuro’s nose. “I punished _that genin_ because he abandoned his station. He was given strict instructions and he failed to follow them. Sorry if we’re made of harder stuff here in Suna. What does Konoha punish insubordination with? Hugs and kisses?”

Life _was_ hard in Suna. Kankuro wasn’t lying there. But admittedly, he had been a bit harsh on the boy back at the courtyard. It had pissed him off that Kiba sharing his easy smiles with another person, and saved derision for him. He just wasn’t gonna admit that right now. Or ever.

“You've insulted my village,” muttered Kiba. They were facing each other now, standing close enough that Kankuro could feel puffs of hot air dusting along his neck and jaw. His voice was low, with a dangerous edge to it. “And me. That will be the last time. Or I take my seemingly unprofessional ass right back to Konoha, and I’m taking those dogs with me. _Fuck_ your investigation. Don’t for a second think I’m here for anything more than those ninken.”

They stood in the centre of the street with Akamaru hovering over Kiba’s left shoulder. The ninken’s gaze bore into him. He wasn’t coiled to strike, but Kankuro felt that one signal from Kiba would be all it took for him to spring into action. People passed them and while most knew to keep their eyes straight ahead, some stared curiously at the three. “It’s the Kazekage’s brother,” he heard, whispered behind one man’s hand. He hurried his companion along when she stopped to look. “It’s shinobi business, love. Let’s go.”

Kankuro felt at an impasse. Kiba was beyond irritated now. He was angry. Kankuro could hear his hot breaths escaping between his bared teeth. Kankuro had insulted both him and his village. And why? He’d taken his frustration out on a young genin, and Kiba himself. And all because…because he didn’t like that Kiba looked at him funny? That he was sarcastic?

What that it?

Or was he punishing Kiba too? For, without even his knowledge, not being available to Kankuro? Because of his arranged marriage?He cast his eyes to the side in guilt.

_This wasn’t Kiba’s fault._

He reared back, until he couldn’t feel the heat of Kiba’s body anymore. “Got it,” he said in resignation. It was as close to an apology as Kiba was going to get right now. Kankuro couldn’t bring himself to articulate the needed words with guilt weighing down his tongue.

Silence echoed between them for a solid six seconds before Kiba replying.

“Good,” Kiba growled out. He turned and walked towards the kennels once again. Akamaru continued to look fixedly at Kankuro. He could see himself in the glossy black mirror of the ninken’s eyes. Kankuro thought he looked tiny in the reflection. Pathetic even.

Akamaru maybe saw the same. He turned away and followed his master.

-

Sunagakure’s kennels had seen better days. It had been a long time since anyone in Suna seriously trained or bred ninken, so the enclosure, currently, was small, and a little dilapidated. It housed around six open-air cage with a small awning over the top. The awning was corrugated iron, and patches of sun streamed into the cages from holes in the metal. Two cages were in use. One housed the rescued puppies and in the other was the remaining adult dogs. Those two huddled together at one end of the cage, trying to escape the sun that inched across the enclosure as it reached its peak. The heat was almost unbearable under the metal structure.

The puppies were huddled together, and were also unmoving. One turned it’s head as they approached, setting some of the rest off in sluggish wiggles. Akamaru bound over to the cage that held the two adult dogs. He snuffled curiously at the grid and the dogs, initially alarmed, soon also began sniffing him back and cautiously wagging their tails.

Kankuro noticed that the water bowls in both cages were empty around the same time Kiba did.

“Why don’t they have any water?! It’s baking in here!” The flash of anger from before was back. His eyebrows tried to knot together in a complicated twist as he looked around him for a source of water. “There isn’t any here!”

Kankuro himself couldn’t figure out why there wasn’t any water in the cages. He’d instructed for the dogs to be looked after. Where was the Chuunin he’d put on it? Inara, was it? She’d said she wanted some training with ninken. Dammit, where was she?

“She’s not here.”

“Who?”

“Inara. I left her in change.”

“Well, she isn’t doing a great job of it, is she?” Kiba reached down and tried to open the puppies’ cage. Some of them stirred over to him. He tugged uselessly at the dull metal padlock. It was rusted so bad that Kiba’s hands came away red and dusty. He sat back on his haunches.

“Akamaru, open the cage. I need to check the pups.”

Just at that moment, Kankuro spotted Inara. She was coming towards them hoisting a bucket of water in her right hand. “She’s back. Wait. She’ll have the key.”

A groaning screech of metal on metal assaulted his ears and by the time he turned back, Akamaru was dropping the ripped gate onto the ground. Kiba was already in the cage and checking each of the puppies. Inara reached him then, shock evident on her face.

“Kankuro-sama? What-“

A shout from the cage interrupted her. “Bring the water, you idiot!”

She looked at him in askance and he nodded. She then hurried over with the bucket and deposited it beside Kiba. He had pulled out a needle-less syringe from somewhere and dunked it into the bucket. “They’re dehydrated,” he said, drawing water into the apparatus. “Why did you leave these animals without water? Surely you Suna-nin can tell when an animal, especially young, isn’t adapted to the heat. These ninken should be indoors, in a cool area. Not out in a crappy yard practically under the sun.”

Inara reddened. “You must be, Inuzuka-san. Forgive me,” she said, bowing her head in apology to him, and then Kankuro. “The water dried up so quickly. I went to get more. The water attendant at the barracks wouldn’t spare me any. I tried to explain, but he wouldn’t bend the rules for me. He was unusually adamant, despite giving me some earlier this morning. So I had to go to my house on the other side of town to get my own rations.”

Dammit.

Kiba glared up at Kankuro too. He was dripping water into one puppy’s mouth. The one that appeared the most sluggish. On a day where Kankuro hadn’t reprimanded the genin harshly, maybe he would have listened and been lenient. The dogs would have had their water quicker.

Why does he keep messing this up?

“Inara, go to the Kazekage’s and explain that water will need to be provided here daily from now on. It needs to be added to the ration list. And replenish your own.”

“I have had enough wa-“

“-They can’t stay here.”

Kiba wasn’t looking at the two Suna-nin who dropped their eyes down to him when he spoke. With defiance, he raised his head as he checked and cradled the puppy in his hands.

“They’re coming back to the barracks with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another quick chapter out! Apologies for any errors as usual x


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ninken find a new home.

Sunagakure’s barracks are notoriously strict. Kankuro has felt the sting of its rules many a time before. They are clearly posted at the main reception just past the arch in the courtyard.

_No drinking. No drugs. No unreported overnight visitors. No animals. No exceptions._

It should actually read _some_ exceptions. As really the only one capable of bending the rules would be the Kazekage himself. And on the Inuzuka Kiba front, he already had. There was every intention of Akamaru staying in these exact kennels tonight. The rules said _no exceptions_. But Kankuro had asked Gaara to make one.

“It’s not just his pet, Gaara. It’s his best friend and companion. It would surely be seen as an offence to ask him to put his dog elsewhere.”

And it had worked. When Kiba and Kankuro had arrived at the barracks earlier in the day, Kankuro had let out a relieved sigh when they were admitted with just a grumble about animal fur. It seemed Gaara had bent the rules. Kankuro silently promised to buy his brother a new plant next time he was at the market.

But Kankuro didn’t think even the Kazekage himself could make the case to accommodate all these wriggling animals in the shinobi barracks.

The hesitance must have shown on his face. “I’m not leaving them here,” Kiba snarled, once more reminding Kankuro of his new dilemma. The Konoha shinobi must think Suna completely incapable of looking after these animals. Kiba crouched low to the ground, over the puppies, as if shielding them from the world. The sun beat down on his back and Kankuro could make out small freckles in the gaps of the mesh shirt. His head spun at how hastily he cast his eyes away. Small white spots dance in his vision as his eyes catch the sun’s reflection off of a large window in the distance.

“Okay,” he said, blinking until his vision clears. “But they can’t go to the barracks. I’ll figure out something else.“ When he looked back he finds the other man is studying him. Kiba’s eyes are narrowed and while it could be the strength of the sun forcing his eyes into slits, Kankuro thinks it's more guarded than anything.

He’s waiting, Kankuro realised.

“I promise,” he adds. After a few moments, Kiba nods. Kankuro looked out into the distance and from here he can see the walls of Suna as they tower over the buildings. The migratory birds that flock there in winter have long since flown north, and the empty nests shift slightly in the breeze. While it’s nice to see new life in the village, the birds themselves, mostly blackbirds, swallows and magpies, can be a nuisance to shinobi in the village. Particularly if they are partial to keeping shiny shuriken that magpies like to steal. Once the temperature soars to summer heights, the birds finally leave. And the few months of peace is nice. It occurred to Kankuro then, that he doesn’t know how his new residence might upset some of these birds. He hoped he doesn’t have to shoo any out of his cave. Its cool temperatures would probably be ideal for nesting, now that most of the snakes are gone.

Wait.

Kankuro clicks his fingers and points at Kiba.

“What temperatures would be ideal for these dogs?”

“I dunno exact temperatures, actually,” Kiba hesitates. “But Konoha climate would be ideal. Not too hot, not too cold. And sheltered from the sun. With plenty of access to water. And soft beds. They’re a bit traumatised.” The look of concern on Kiba’s face makes Kankuro’s heart clench. He wants smooth the lines on his forehead away.

He coughs, clearing his throat. “So, a place with cool temperatures, that’s shielded from the sun, room to run about in, and it’s comfortable?”

Kiba quirked an eyebrow at him. “You have a place in mind?”

“Maybe,” answered Kankuro. He reaches for the carrier cages stacked against the wall of the kennels. “Do dogs like snakes?”

-

The worry lines on Kiba’s forehead disappear once they get the dogs settled in the living room of Kankuro’s cave. Kankuro’s relieved. Inari had helped them transport the animals but at Kankuro’s order has retreated to inform the Kazekage’s office of the change in location. Kiba had circled the area twice and was currently on his third inspection when he finally turns to Kankuro. He sniffed. Loudly. And then sniffed again. He followed his nose in a comical track all the way to his couch and then swiftly changes course to the fridge in the kitchen that opens into the living area.

“There’s actually not that many snakes in here,” he informs him. “There’s only about twelve, right now.”

Twelve?! Kankuro had thought there was a lot less than that.

“Good at hiding, I suppose. They’re sneaky like that,” he answered. He tries to pretend like it doesn’t bother him that there were way more snakes in his home than he realised. He glimpsed Temari’s gift on the wall. The frame is already coated in a light layer of fine red dust but he can still read the words clearly. “It’s not a snake house, it’s a snake home,” he muttered, and wonders should he have been more concerned about the reptiles.

“Riiiight,” Kiba said. His hand is raised in a placating gesture. “Not to be too la-di-da but is there a place with fewer snakes available?”

“Not really, not at short notice. It’s here or the kennels for now. Don’t worry though. They’re alright. The snakes,” he finished, pathetically. “Except for the one behind the fridge. He’s a dick.”

“Yeah, I can smell that. He has to go. Akamaru can help us take care of that.”

In the end, Akamaru was useless. Udon doesn’t go down without a fight and Kankuro receives a gash to his forearm for the trouble. It stung. But Udon isn’t poisonous. None of these snakes are, as far as he’d researched. Kiba holds up the flailing bag. “Where can I get rid of this?”

“Udon can go right to hell,” he says. He hissed as he secures his hand over the cut on his arm. It’s bleeding sluggishly, and looks deeper than he originally thought. It doesn’t look like he’ll need stitches or anything but he’d better get it wrapped. “Just release him outside. There’s were lots more here before I moved in and they never came back.”

“You live here?” Kiba looked around once again with an incredulous look. Kankuro found himself slightly offended at that.

“Hey! It’s not much but it’s home. I bet you still live with your mom,” he retorted with a smirk. Kiba growls. He’d take that as a yes.

The other man leaves with the bag of…snake, and Kankuro took the opportunity to go through the living room and into his workshop where he kept the first aid kit and other medical supplies. Blood drips along the floor as he goes and he swore when some leaks onto the cream woven carpet under his drafting desk. At least his clothes are black, when he notices that it’s unavoidable that blood smears on his sleeve as he pulls his arm out from it. His gloves come off too and he pushes a small wood carving aside to place them on the messy desk. He’s got the wound cleaned and covered by the time Kiba gets back.

“You’re bleeding,” he heard from the doorway. Kiba is perched there, his arms folded and he’s starting at Kankuro’s unclothed arm. He’s not self-conscious about the scars that litter his limbs; they’re proof of his dedication to mastering his craft. But the way Kiba looked at him now makes heat coil low in his belly. He became hyper aware of his rumpled bed not two metres away from them and if Kiba notices his glance towards it, he pretends not to. Instead he shifts against the door jam, arching his back slightly. Brown eyes looked down at his own body as if inviting Kankuro to take in his fill. He’s still in his mesh shirt from earlier and it strained across his biceps. Kankuro watched as his arms flex and saliva floods his mouth as he imagines wrapping his hands around his wide shoulders. Kiba is shorter than him, but is definitely stockier. When he took a shaky breath and leans back in his chair, he brushed his ungloved hand again the sand on his desk.

Sand?

Oh yes, Gaara’s message last week. He hadn’t cleaned that up. It brought his mind back to more pressing matters, like the fact that he couldn’t find Kiba attractive anymore. He was to be married soon.

He coughed.

“No shit,” he said, and looped his arm back into his sleeve. “I’ve had worse.” He grabbed his gloves from the desk and stood as he yanked them on. Kiba stayed rigid in the doorjamb as Kankuro passed him. A loud sigh escaped him as Kankuro swiftly edges past. He made sure not to touch a single inch of the other man as he did.

The angry tension from this morning was gone, and he wondered what had happened to mellow Kiba out. But Kankuro almost wished for it to return as the sexual tension was so so much worse.

-

They released the dogs first into the living room, then the puppies. Initially the older dogs wouldn’t come out of their cage and they watch Kankuro and Kiba with frightened eyes and shaking limbs. After some coaxing, and some burger meat, they do emerge but stick to the side of Kankuro’s coach and refuse to move. The puppies are less aware and wriggle and pounce wherever they can. They use some wood from his workshop to create a makeshift barrier around the couch and chairs, hemming the animals into the safety of the soft furnishings. Kiba sits on the couch and gently strokes the head of one of the older dogs. He’d warmed up a bit since Kiba has offered him the meat but still whimpered quietly as Kiba pet his head. It was as if it pained him. The other dog, lighter in colour, kept his eyes trained on the ground and his back legs shook with anxiety. Kankuro winced. He wondered what life had been like for these dogs.

He sits on the chair opposite. “We should call that one Burger,” he said, pointing at the dog Kiba is stroking.

“Burger?” Incredulous seems to be Kiba’s default around Kankuro and he’s lost count how many times he’s seen his eyebrow cocked since this morning.

“Yeah, he likes burger meat.”

“What about this one?” Kiba nods his head at the quivering dog beside him. She’s pulled herself up against Kiba’s leg, as if she wants to burrow into it for safety.

Kankuro thinks for a moment. “Jelly,” he says with a click of his fingers.

Kiba nods understandingly. “The shaking?”

“You get it,” Kankuro agrees. Kiba only hums in acknowledgement.

Kiba takes the time now to really inspect each dog. He makes notes in a little book perched on the coach but otherwise it’s a quiet affair. Kankuro waits until he’s finished, instead choosing to observe the process of the other man. It’s peaceful. And Kankuro finds himself drifting off into space. He’s thinking about the logistics behind the chakra flows in puppet design when he noticed Kiba step out of the enclosure. He’s pulled out the Konoha headband Gaara had given him and he walked to sit cross-legged with Akamaru as he inspects it. He sniffs it all over. Then reached his out for Akamaru to do the same.

He writes some more in his journal. It’s quiet for a few more minutes and the only sounds are the scratching of a pencil and the careful sniffing of Burger and Jelly as they start to explore their surroundings; albeit with immense caution. The book flicks closed with a snap and Kiba comes back into his line of sight. His hands are perched at his hips as he looks down at the dogs below. He worries his bottom lip with his teeth.

He surprises Kankuro when he speaks next. “Thanks,” Kiba said. “For this.” He gestures to the piles of animals in front of them.

“Oh. S’no problem.” Kankuro shrugs, aiming for nonchalance. His face heats up at the expressed gratitude. He ws pleased at the praise.

A short silence erupts between the two of them.

“And I need to send a message to my mother,” Kiba announces. “I have some leads on the headband, but I need some confirmation.”

Ah. Back to work then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter but I wanted to get it out of my head out ASAP. I've checked it twice but will check again for errors in the morning. Leave a comment if you spot the reference I couldn't resist making! 
> 
> I'm readjusting the amount of chapters also, I've realised it's going to be longer than I thought.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ninken settle in Kankuro's home.

“So when we moved these dogs here, you didn’t tell me how putrid their shit was going to stink,” he said as he scraped puppy poop from his rug with a plastic bag wrapped around his hand. “This is the fourth time today. Why am I doing all the cleaning?”

“It’s _your_ place,” replied Kiba as he reclined on the battered sofa. Akamaru lounged between his legs with his head pillowed on his chest. Kankuro couldn’t imagine the position was comfortable considering the weight of the dog. However, they’d been like that all morning as they awaited a reply from Konoha about Kiba’s findings on the headband. Kiba grinned down at Kankuro where he knelt on the carpet. “I can have Akamaru help out, if you want,” he said.

“Akamaru? How?” Kankuro paused in his cleaning to pass a quizzical look to the other man. Something stirred in his chest as he caught sight of the three puppies also asleep on the couch nestled up against Kiba trying to steal his warmth. The rest of the animals were curled up on Kankuro’s cloak with the older dogs on the other armchair. Kiba said it would help them with trusting him if they got used to his scent. It was already covered in dog hairs and he considered it a lost, if not noble, cause.

Kiba grinned again. “Akamaru,”he said, and the dog in his lap lifted his head. “Clean.” Akamaru lifted himself sharply, causing his owner to grunt as his paws briefly winded him. He jumped down and Kankuro could tell immediately that he was heading straight for the dark stain with his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

Kankuro gagged.

“Oh, that’s disgusting.” He gagged again. “Oh my god, please tell him to stop.” Kankuro pressed his forearm to his mouth and nose and quickly exited the scene heading towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna be sick.” He dropped the bag into his bin, then rushed to the sink to wash his hands. “That’s so fucking gro-“ He gagged once again. Kiba cackled loudly on the sofa, waking the pups around him. He quickly made to settle them with coos and shushes.

“Oh, I am so sorry little one,” he soothed. “Did the big bad puppet man wake you up? It’s can’t be helped, I’m afraid. He’s a big dramatic idiot.” Kiba pushed the fussing puppy up against his face and stared at Kankuro with a pouting face. The double barrage of twin puppy eyes melted Kankuro’s insides and his entire body sagged as the anger and disgust evaporated out though his pores.

Akamaru let out a loud yawn, breaking the spell Kankuro had been under. The dog had finished ‘cleaning’ the carpet and was now spreading himself out on the floor to sleep. The two had returned to the barracks late last night, after giving firm instructions on caring for the dogs. Kiba had set them up in the cages and promised Kankuro that they should be fine inside overnight.

But Kiba hadn’t warned him about the _howling_.

Burger and Jelly didn’t like being caged overnight. Apparently. Obviously this was something Kiba had neglected to mention. This resulted in Kankuro drowsily padding to his living room and sliding the lock open for the dog’s cage. The two ninken had stopped their tirade as soon as he slid open his bedroom door but now made no move to rush out of the cage once their freedom had been granted. The puppies squeaked and grumbled but fell silent once the other two had calmed down. One let out a quiet cough. _They_ didn’t mind the cage.

“Well?”

The two dogs had the audacity to point their heads down and both looked up sheepishly at him in askance. If they had quickly ended up huddled at the foot of his bed, well, that was nobody’s business but his own.

Kiba didn’t need to know how much of a soft touch he was. And how nice it was to have some company.

But the lack of earlier sleep in the night had affected his morning routine. He woke up late and had only finished shaving when he heard a banging at his front door. Burger and Jelly scurried in fright to hide under Kankuro’s bed. Hurriedly applying his purple paint, he’d had to settle on one of his less intricate styles. It was messy. He was very aware that the lines down from his mouth don’t usually curve off to the left.

But Kiba didn’t know that. So, it was fine. Surely.

When he’d opened the door to him after a minute or two of loud knocking, Kiba looked him up and down straight away. Kankuro hadn’t donned his signature hood yet and his hair was still slightly limp and wet from the shower. He had thrown on a black linen apron over a turtleneck and black trousers. It was his usual workshop attire. Temari liked to call it his ‘spooky homemaker’ outfit. Kankuro just liked the added deep pockets the apron gave him to store tools.

“Good morning,” he greeted.

Kiba didn’t reply. Kankuro watched as his mouth hung open slightly. He gave Kankuro a quick look up and down before he swallowed. Hard. When his eyes reached his face, he came back to his senses.“Uh,” he said, dumbly. “Your makeup looks a little…off.” He gestured to Kankuro’s chin where obviously he’d messed up the line more than he’s originally thought.

“Cheers,” said Kankuro through gritted teeth. He turned walked back to the living room, leaving the door open for his guest. “I love when my flaws are brought to light,” he grumbled as he cast a stormy look over his shoulder. Grabbing his hood off the coat stand, he brought it firmly down around his ears.

“I didn’t mean it looked bad! Just different! Where’s the white stuff?”

“Didn’t have time,” he answered gruffly. “And I didn’t used to have white, you know.”

“Huh. I never noticed.”

“I think we were all a bit too focused on not getting horrifically killed back then,” said Kankuro, throwing Kiba a bone.

Heh. Bone.

Then the dog’s started with their domino-effect pooping, and Kankuro found that he had more to occupy his mind than the fact that Kiba was still stood at the door, leaning against it with an appraising look.

-

The letter arrived around noon. Kiba turned his head towards the window just before the large brown hawk suddenly swooped in from Kankuro’s open overhead skylight. It circled the room once before landing on Kankuro’s outstretched arm. He unclasped the scroll and checked it’s sender- _Inuzuka Tsume_ \- before chucking it in Kiba’s direction. Kiba caught it effortlessly and opened the scroll.

“From Mummy dearest,”he teased. Kiba flipped him off without looking up. Kankuro sniggered as he led the hawk to the fridge and fed it some of the ever dwindling package of burger meat. He’d have to shop soon.

A distracted sigh echoed in from the living room, followed by the district crumple of paper being folded as Kiba shoved the message into his trousers pocket. “I’ll need to see the Kazekage,” he said. “The old lady just confirmed my hunch.”

“So,the mother of these pups belonged to the member of your clan who went missing in action last year?”

“Yup.” Kiba scratched his chin. The raspy sound as his fingers grazed his scruff made the hairs on Kankuro’s arms stand on end. “She was sent on a S-rank mission in the Land of Rivers. Never returned. Considered missing-in-action. Distant cousin,” he added. “But I remember her from family gatherings. Nice woman. Left a wife and kid behind.“

“That sucks…Sorry about that,” consoles Kankuro. “At least you know what happened to her now.”

“Hey, not yet. I need to find out if she’s dead or not,” he said, as he rose and walked towards the door. “Will you be okay with them if I leave to speak with your brother?” He flagged his arms out to indicate he was talking about the dogs.

Kankuro looked at the slumbering animals across his home. Never would he have thought he’d have so much life in this cave when he’d moved in here. The place stank of shit and dog hair, but it felt… _alive_.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he said.

-

Kankuro liked men. He liked the way their arms bunched when they folded their arms in a t-shirt. Arms that could hold him close and not let go. The way their whole body rippled and twisted with power as they launched kunai after kunai at a target, and the rough feel of their hands against his. He liked their hands slapping his back in congratulations. They’re easiness.. And he liked running his hands down the flat plain of their torso from collarbones to hips. Liked running his tongue down that path too. Men were straightforward, solid and certain.

But he liked women too. He liked long silky hair and the feeling it gave as it trailed through his fingers. He liked their eyes and long eyelashes, how he felt like he needed something to hold on to or risk drowning in their gaze. Hugging them close, enveloping them in his arms and him in their sweet scent. He liked breasts. He liked the weight of them in his hands and their pliable feel against his lips. Women were soft and fierce and knowing.

So when he’d accepted this arranged marriage proposal, he knew he’d be okay. He’d definitely been with more men than women. But attraction wasn’t going to be an issue. If there was going to be one drawback to the whole thing, it would be that he didn’t like bossy women. Or proud ones. Or irritable ones.

Too like his sister.

Hmm. He looked down at the ninken curled up on his couch. Would his future wife like dogs? 

Not that it would be a dealbreaker. There wasn’t going to be a dealbreaker.

Kankuro didn’t have a choice.

Well, there goes the discouraging thoughts again.

So right then, he decided to do what he usually does when he gets bleak thoughts. Bury himself in his workshop. Kankuro found himself sitting at his desk not thirty seconds later, with the door carefully ajar in case the ninken woke up. He was resolved to get them outside before there were any more ‘accidents’ this time.

Thirty minutes later and he was suitably distracted. And covered in saw dust. “She’s going to like dogs and that’s it, Karasu,” he said to his puppet hanging near his desk. Flicking a string of chakra out, he nodded the puppet’s head and said, in a deeper voice. “Too right, Kankuro.” Kankuro had long since stopped being embarrassed about speaking to his puppets. The puppet didn’t say things that annoyed him. “And another thing-“

He was distracted by his one-sided tirade by a small sound in the other room. He turned to face the door. It sounded again.

A small hacking cough.

He fell over his chair in his effort to get to the living room. Was one of the puppies choking on something? Kiba had removed all the objects he deemed ‘dangerous’ when he puppy-proofed the room. His box of poisons had been the first to go on a high shelf. So, what had it got into?

His heart as up in his mouth as he raced to the sofa to the source of the noise. One of the puppies was hacking continuously and weakly.

“Fuck,” he panicked. He reached for the puppy and cradled it in his arms, checking it over for anything and looking inside it’s mouth for obstructions. Nothing. It continued it’s tiny cough. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity. Fuck. _Why_ are you coughing?”

The blood drain from his face as he heard another noise behind him.

Another tiny cough. Then another one. Then a louder one.

Burger was coughing. As well _all_ the puppies on that chair.

“ _Fuuuck_.” He put the puppy back down and walked over to the other chair. He checked the dogs for any choking hazards and again there was nothing. Burger had the _audacity_ to wag his tail while hacking horrifically as if he wasn’t aware he was dying or something and it was all Kankuro’s fault. He was supposed to be looking after these dogs.

“Shit. Okay. Water. Maybe they need water. It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be fine. You’ll be fine.” He chucked out the water in the water bowls and rushed to the kitchen to refill it under the sink. The coughing from the adjoining room sounded _awful_ now and did nothing to ease Kankuro’s dismay. Plonking the bowl in the centre of his living room and encouraging the dogs to drink did nothing either. Although now all the dogs were awake and tottering about the room acting as normal. Except for the coughing of course. One puppy, the white one, coughed so hard he toppled over on his unsteady legs.

“Shit. Fuck. What do I do?” He looked towards the door with both need and trepidation. He needed Inuzuka Kiba to walk through that door but he was also afraid that Kiba’s trust in him would be broken now that he’d let the dogs become ill on his watch.

Dammit. Why does he always fuck up so bad?

-

Kiba didn’t return for another twenty minutes. And in that time, Kankuro had succeeded in nothing but messing up his makeup entirely as he ran his worried hands across his face. All the dogs were now coughing and wheezing as they climbed all over Kankuro on the floor. He’d tried feeding them, patting them, giving them milk, more water, everything he could think of but none of it had worked. Now he had to tell Kiba that’s he’d fucked up. He was sitting on the ground and his bare foot bounced vigorously against the carpet.

He had planned to explain to Kiba calmly and succinctly exactly what had happened. But when the other man walked through his open door, all he could do was look at him with what he imagined was the most distressed and frazzled look he’d shown in many years.

“ _Kiba_ ,” he pleaded. The other shinobi was at his side in an instant, hovering beside Kankuro and reaching out as if to check in for injuries.

“What wrong? Are you hurt?” His face was troubled and he finally placed a hand on Kankuro’s knee where it was propped against the carpet. “Kankuro, what happened?”

Kankuro was taken aback. Had he not noticed the _coughing_? “Not me,” he replied. “The _puppies_. Burger. Jelly.” He held up the two puppies in his arms. “They won’t stop coughing.” His own voice was descending into a whine.

“Oh,” said Kiba. He let out a quick breath and his body relaxed. Kankuro hadn’t even realised how tense he had been when he had sprang across the room in his haste. He spotted Akamaru by the door, also relaxing and sitting back on all fours. “I thought you were wounded.” Kankuro noticed that although his body had loosened, Kiba’s hand still had his knee in a firm grip. Kiba reached with his free hand and scooped one of the pups from Kankuro’s arms. “Akamaru, you stay over there,” he instructed.

Kankuro started babbling then. “Look, I know I was supposed to mind them but I fucked up. I was carving wood and I was only gone for a half hour and then I heard coughing and when I came out they were coughing more and I tried to get them water but it didn’t work. I fed them. I gave them that milk you said to give them. I’m tried _everything_ you said. I even tried a little healing jutsu but I’m not very good at it and I don’t even know if it would work on animals. Oh my god, what if I made it _worse_. I fucked this up, I’m so sorry. I’m real-“

“Kankuro. Calm down.” The hand on his knee tightened, and Kiba’s thumb smoothed over the top of it. Kankuro’s focus zeroed it on the movement of that thumb and the pressure as it nudged into his leg. “Relax. And breathe.” Kankuro took a breath. His eyes flicked from his knee to Kiba’s eyes which were looking at his own, imploring him to calm down. What he saw there soothed the ache in his throat but he immediately cast his eyes back down to Kiba’s movements below. “It’s just kennel cough,” said Kiba. “A common sickness for dogs who have undergone stress or travel recently. They’ll be fine. I even have some medicine right here in my pouch to make them better even quicker. You didn’t cause this.”

Oh. Kennel cough. He hadn’t heard of that before. “So…they’ll be okay?”

Kiba brushed his thumb once more over the knob of Kankuro’s knee. “Yeah, they’ll be fine.”

Kankuro let out a breath of relief. He’d overreacted.

Suddenly, hot embarrassment flared up inside him and he was hyper aware that he was sitting on his floor with his makeup smudged everywhere and the hand on his knee was searing like a hot brand. He straightened his leg and Kiba lifted his hand off.

Kankuro wanted it back.

Instead he stood up gruffly and made an excuse to wash his face. He escaped to the bathroom, hoping his remaining makeup hid his hot face.

—

When he return some minutes later, Kiba was administering a shot of green liquid to each of the dogs. Akamaru was gone from the room and Kankuro assumed he waiting outside. The Konoha shinobi looked up when he entered and did a poor job of hiding his surprise at Kankuro’s bare face.

“Oh, you…washed it off.”

“Yeah, well. Someone told me already today how crap it looked,” he replied. He squatted down beside where Kiba was kneeling on the floor. Burger and Jelly were in their cages, as well as half the pups in their own. Kiba went back to his task and pricked each of the remaining pups with the vaccine. Their tiny whimpers of pain hurt Kankuro’s ears.

“There.” Kiba said. “Give it a week and they’ll be back to normal. The antibiotic will fix any infections and stave off any more.”

Kankuro let out a relieved sigh. “Good.” He turned to look at Kiba again but found the other man was already staring back. He cast his eyes away quickly. “I was really freaked out. So…thanks.” Kankuro was thanking him for helping the puppies but the unspoken gratitude for calming his nerves in the situation was clear also.

“Anytime. You know, you look cute when you cry,” Kiba said with a grin.

Kankuro stood quickly. Indignation flashed hotly across his face. “I’m wasn’t crying, idiot!”

“Aw, you sure?You were all ‘Kiba, save me! My hero!’”

“Shut up! I obviously was not!” He growled in frustration. “You’re infuriating. I feel like I’m arguing with a child!”

“Ooh, you look cute when you’re mad too,” Kiba teased.

“Oh, shut the fu-“

“Also, your brother had requested you see him immediately. I was supposed to tell you that.” The shit-eating grin was still plastered across Kiba’s face.

He let out a loud groan and went to his room, choosing to extract himself from the situation entirely. The sound the door made as in reverberated in it’s frame did little to ease his frustration and he quickly applied some facepaint in a much better style than this morning despite his muttered grumbles as he did it. He left his room through the small window, not bothering to say goodbye to the other ninja.

—

Gaara was, to know one’s surprise, working through some paperwork on his desk. He looked up when Kankuro walked unannounced into the room but didn’t stop until he had finished scribbling out his signature on the bottom of the document. Placing it to the side, he gave Kankuro his full attention. He looked especially serious today.

“I’m sending you to Episar to do reconnaissance on the ninken smuggling operation. We need more details from the source,” he said. “And you are to take Inuzuka Kiba with you. He been assigned to figure out the curriculars of his cousin’s disappearance.”

After the exasperating conversation he’d just had with the man, a week or so on the road with Kiba sounded like _torture_. But it was necessary, and if it came down to dealing with ninken again, Kiba had shown him that he was more than an expert to have on the subject and a valuable asset to the mission.

“When are we set to leave?” Kankuro couldn’t say he was surprised to receive the mission, but he was surprised at the aim. “Also why reconnaissance? Why don’t we crack down on the ring immediately? Let them know we are onto them?”

Gaara levelled him with a grim look. “The situation has become slightly more complicated.”

He paused. And Kankuro leaned forward with concern. Gaara never waived in delivering information. “What’s happened, Gaara?”

Gaara took an almost imperceptible deep breath. “The political issues with Episar have obviously been something the council has wished to smooth over for years now. They have come to a solution that benefits both Suna and Episar. It is now even more important that Episar doesn’t know we are investigating within their walls.” He paused again and steepled his hands under his nose. “You remember I said that Episar’s chain of command is run by royalty?”

“Yeah, kinda?”

“The Council has decided on your bride. And the Crown Princess of Episar has accepted your hand in return. Your marriage has been arranged.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to NeoNox and JustAKibaFan for their lovely comments who inspired me to write this slightly longer than usual chapter for you. This marks the end of the first act of the story and now we'll be moving across the desert to the city of Episar. Things are really going to get going now. Hope you enjoy! :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two set off on the journey to Episar.

Kankuro couldn’t sleep.

He’s not surprised. The confirmation of his marriage has sent anxiety spiralling through his veins, making him hyper aware of every noise in the night, every brush of scratchy blanket against his legs, every worry collecting in his throat. Worry often likes to collect in his neck, choking him with the feeling of trying to swallow a hard piece of bread with no water to ease it down. It collects there and hangs his mouth open until he feels he can’t speak, or breath, or function at all. It’s this that keeps him awake tonight. The worry.

For his bride. _Of_ his bride.

Who was this woman? Would he need to move to Episar? What will this merger be like? And it was a merger, calling it anything like a _marriage_ would be a lie. Kankuro was being traded. Offered as a boon to soothe things over for Suna. To fix his father’s mistake.

He wondered would they have picked the same bride for Gaara. Then he reasoned that they probably wouldn’t, Gaara being too valuable to give away to the restless Episar. But Kankuro was dispensable.

Apparently.

Would they actually want him to serve as their ruler? Or would tragedy strike in his first year of marriage? Would an unfortunate ‘accident’ mean the end of his life and revenge on Sunagakure for the assassination of their leader years before? The Council knew the risks. They would take it anyway. They may be able to get more water for the citizens of Suna and other deprived areas in Wind Country. Was Kankuro’s life really worth more than the security of thousands of citizens?

Even before the thought had finished in his head, he knows this to be true. The Council would exchange his life for the greater good of the people. And expect him to give it in return. And he would. To serve his country and his Kazekage he would do his duty and marry this princess. He’s just thought he’d serve his country in the field, in the end.

_What about Kiba?_ It was a stray thought, a glimmering unease, that came uncalled for to the forefront of his mind.

What _about_ Kiba?

The Leaf ninja had no stake in this fight. Whatever chemistry between the two was a trivial indulgence, a hopeless path that led to disappointment and inevitable goodbyes. Kankuro could imagine the conversation now. _Hey, so the city we’re about to infiltrate is ruled by an angry princess, and we can’t let her know we are here because she might kill me, because my dad killed her dad, and also she’s to be my wife. We plan to be very unhappy together._

Yeah, that would go down like a lead balloon.

So he lies in bed, listening to the snuffling breaths of slumbering dogs around him in his home. A bird of prey screeches in the distance. He imagines what it would be like not telling Kiba, and allowing their mission tomorrow to pass in the pleasant camaraderie it’s come to be. Kiba might push his flirtation, not laying it on as thick as before, but enough between the men to call it coy banter. Kankuro would roll his eyes and slap him on the shoulder in annoyance. They would travel on in this way for days, enjoying easy smiles and good humour. Kankuro would explain the intricacies of the desert around him, and Kiba would recite his ninken expertise. They would fight together and eat together and sleep together and laugh together. It’s a thought that makes Kankuro smile. And for the first time all night he finally finds the lump in his throat loosening up and allowing him to breath deep in the inhales and exhales of incoming slumber.

He’ll tell Kiba about the marriage after this is all done.

He will.

He’s just going to be a bit selfish first.

—

The sun hasn’t yet risen above the horizon when Inari arrives with an overnight bag to Kankuro’s place. She hesitates at the threshold and fidgets with the strap of the duffel slung over her shoulder. Kankuro beckons her further into the living room and instructs her to place her things in the corner where he has laid out a camp bed for her stay. She warily eyes the crocodile statue and thanks the puppet master for his hospitality. Kankuro can already tell that once he leaves she’ll be dragging that bed as far away from the reptilian effigy as she can comfortably be.

He isn’t bothered really. She can do what she wants. She’s looking after the ninken for them after all. Kiba emerges from the bathroom and immediately quizzes her in animal care. He’d briefed her already, and Inari was definitely eager to not repeat the same mistakes as before. Her head bobs as if her lack of movement would spell disinterest in her task. Kiba nods his head enthusiastically along with her and Kankuro snickers at the pair, heads mimicking two parrots he had seen once in a travelling show. He slung his own backpack over his shoulder. Kiba’s bag was slumped on the ground by the door. He picked it up and handed it to the other man.

“I think she’s got it. C’mon, we gotta go.”

It had taken two days to prepare for their mission to Episar. Two days of meetings and arrangements and lectures. Even the council had squeezed an audience out of Kankuro. And only to give him strict instructions on how important it was he remain undetected. That he wasn’t to screw this up, and he’d only continued to lead this mission due to his brother’s insistence.

It was a depreciating thought.

Kankuro felt a finality with this mission like no other. And not for the expected danger of the assignment, but for what awaited him when he returned. Even so, he was eager to get on the road and lose himself in the banalities of mission work.

Kiba was whispering goodbyes to each dog individually.

“Goodbye, puppy. I’ll miss you. And you, puppy. And especially _you_ , pup-“

“-Dude, _come on.”_

_“_ Now, hold your horses, Kankuro- _sama_. The ninken need a proper goodbye. Separation anxiety is a very real concern, you know,” he says, brandishing a puppy in Kankuro’s face. The expression on Kiba’s own could convince Kankuro to abandon his village. His eyes were large and round as they looked up at Kankuro underneath a furrowed brow. The puppy was thrust over his folded arms and Kankuro leaned back to escape the onslaught. “Say your goodbyes. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re not a doctor,” grumbled Kankuro as he reluctantly unfolded his arms and enclosed the puppy within. It’s eyes stared up at him wetly and blinked slowly when he brought a hand up to scratch it’s head. Before all this, Kankuro would say that he’s never really paid attention to dogs, or ninken in general. But the ones he had seen, certainly didn’t look like these dogs. Their hair and ears were long and soft and combined with their short noses and large eyes, they didn’t really look like the shinobi ninken he’d come to know. They looked delicate, and gentle. He knew that he was biologically predisposed to find these animals ‘cute’ but he was stronger than that. He would resist this creatures charms.

“I’m not saying goodbye, that’s ridiculous. They can’t even understand us,” he concluded.

The puppy turns his head into Kankuro’s fingers, seeking a scratch below it’s ears. A small mewl escapes it’s mouth as it flops it’s whole tiny body on Kankuro’s hands. His heart melts. And his traitorous lips unconsciously drop as a small ‘aww’ sounds between them.

He freezes.

Kiba and Inari are peering at him with twin expressions of fondness. Neither speak a word, but Kankuro flusters anyway as he says “Oh, shut up!”. He carefully places the puppy in the cage and stomps out of his house. He’ll wait outside and avoid the ridiculousness entirely.

He sits with Akamaru, decidedly _not_ scratching behind his ears, despite how the ninken puts on his puppy dog eyes and nudges Kankuro’s shoulder. Nope. He’s not falling for that one. Akamaru isn’t half as cute as the puppies. And definitely not as cute as Kiba.

_Dammit_. He can feel the tips of his ears glowing hot. He shakes his head roughly to Akamaru’s delight, who immediately mirrors his movements and does the same. A piece of drool lands on his arm and he brushes it off in disgust.

As if summoned only at inopportune times, Kiba appears at his side.

“Ready to go?” He adjusts his bag more firmly over his shoulder. He seems excited, eager to be spurring into action. It brings a sparkling gleam to his eyes and his voice is just a tad too loud for the early hour. Kankuro finds a lightness in his own chest, himself eager to get out of the village and the responsibilities within. Suddenly impatient, he stands quickly.

“Yeah,” Kankuro responds gruffly and starts walking at a quick pace, glad his hood hides his ears.

—

They travel quickly the first day. Kankuro doesn’t know what vibes he is giving off, but Kiba generally holds back on the wisecracks and they don’t converse aside from functional instructions or short remarks. Maybe Kiba feels it himself, the need to hasten across the desert; to get out of it’s fierce winds and merciless sun. Tall saguaros and acacia trees blur past as they run through the terrain, smoother than the crags that defensively surround Suna. Kankuro tastes grit in his mouth as dust clings to his skin, rising from the dry cracked earth they run over. He is reminded of how much he hates travelling in this way when he feels his clothes chafe against his skin and the sweat sting his eyes.He looks at his companion and notices, to his relief, that the other had opted not to wear his fur jacket. It was tied to Akamaru, who panted harsh in the heat. They took frequent breaks.

Kiba makes no comment as they go out of their way to avoid towns and settlements throughout the day, sometimes adding extra time to their journey. Kankuro is sure the questions will come, sometimes catches Kiba’s eye as they stop to slug water from the cooling pouches Kankuro has brought with him. But they don’t. He remains quiet throughout the day.

It’s unnerving.

Once the sun begins to set and they’ve made significant progress in their journey, Kankuro signals for them to make camp at a small oasis. There are a few goats milling about but it is otherwise deserted. Perfect for laying low. The unforgiving sun gives way to cooler temperatures, although not so cold as to persuade Kiba from eyeing the waters with interest. Kankuro slings his backpack to the ground and rolls out his sleeping bag, intending to wash the grime and sweat from his face. When he turns, Kiba is still contemplating the pool.

“Can I swim?” Kankuro notices how uncomfortable Kiba looks now, grimacing as he scratches the thick layer of dust in the creases of his neck.

“Should be fine,” he says. He didn’t intend to swim himself, just wash away the dirt of the day at the side of the water. However, he immediately regrets his affirmation when Kiba’s hands grip the hem of his shirt and he pulls the mesh armour over his head.

It leaves Kankuro with a perfect view of his muscular back as it flexes in the waning light of the evening. It’s tanned, and burly, like he’s spent hours upon hours training with his own body weight in the sun. He probably has. Freckles are powdered over his shoulders like stars decorating the night sky. Kankuro wants to count them with his fingertips. The small washcloth he was holding drops from his hands as Kiba’s own hands reached down to undo his fly.

Kankuro whips his head away so fast he knocks his hood askew and puts one hundred per cent of his focus into correcting it’s position until he hears a displacement of water behind him. He busies himself preparing his rations for the evening and after moving a larger red canvas bag from his pack, lights a small glow stick as it begins to darken quickly. All the while he casts furtive glances at the water, catching quick glimpses of sun-kissed skin as the Leaf ninja washes near the centre of the pool.

He wants to bathe himself, but considering everything within him now aches to be closer and closer to the Leaf ninja, he refrains. He’ll wait for true darkness, then escape to undress without the watchful eyes upon him. If he was going to have to hold back his attraction, it’s the kindest he can be to himself.

Well, the kindest he could be to himself would be to follow Kiba into the water, but that wasn’t going to happen. Because Kankuro was a man of restraint. Absolutely.

“Hey Kankuro- _sama_ , are you going to join me?”

Just because he was a man of restraint didn’t mean Kiba needed to be, despite Kankuro’s initial rejection. Didn’t he realise how hard he was making it on Kankuro?

He allowed himself a gander towards the water. Gotta make it look like he didn’t care that- _oh my god._ Kiba’s shit eating grin was back. Although now it implored nothing but invitation. He was facing their makeshift camp, standing hip deep in the pool. Rivets of water rand down his chest as he scooped water up his arms and along his shoulders. Kankuro sharp inhale of breath echoed Kiba’s own as the cool water fanned out over his torso. The grin grew wider. He’d noticed.

The light from the sun was rapidly dwindling now and Kankuro turned back to adjust his bed roll once again. “I’ll be fine. I’ll wash later,” he announces. He closes his eyes and counts to ten when he hears the telltale sounds of the other man leaving the pool. And by the time he’d turned around once more, Kiba had pulled his trousers up around his damp skin.

“Aaah, so refreshing,” he sighed, sitting down in the sand beside Kankuro. With the same lecherous grin, he leans back on his elbows, shirtless. Droplets of water still cling to his abdomen.

“That pool is probably full of goat shit,” is what Kankuro says, desperate to alleviate the strain he feels. Goat shit _wasn’t_ sexy. Surely.

_Splash!_

Both men twists their heads towards the oasis where Akamaru has chased a small white goat until he’d crashed sideways into the water. He sprang up once again and continued his pursuit across to the other bank. Kiba snorted with laughter at his dog’s antics. Kankuro took the opportunity to grab the red canvas bag he’d set aside earlier.

“Listen up for a second, this will be important,” he tells Kiba. Out from the bag comes two sets of light linen clothes, a shaver, a small faceprint kit with multiple colours and a Suna headband. “We’ll need to disguise ourselves from here on.”

Kiba sits forward and crosses his legs. Sand has collected on the back of his forearms where he was leaning on his elbows. He absentmindedly brushes the grains away while inspecting the items before him. He picks up one set of clothes and sits them in his lap before pointing to the headband. “I’m not wearing that,” he announces, with finality.

Kankuro sighs. He’d told Gaara as much the day previous when they’d discussed how they would remain undetected on their journey. His brother was worried. That much Kankuro could tell. And that wasn’t just about the hawk message he’d received from Temari.

_If you think my little brother is getting married before I do, well then, you can think again! This is the Council’s doing, isn’t it?! They’ve been trying to one-up me ever since Shikamaru proposed. Those old kooks just want to disrupt my plans to ‘enslave’ myself to another village! Ridiculous! Abso-fucking-lutely ridiculous! Gaara, you tell them my exact words. I want them to know._

Gaara had asked Kankuro if he should tell the Council Temari’s exact words. Kankuro told him it would be best if they didn’t know about the letter at all.

He’d also told Gaara that he couldn’t see Kiba putting away his most identifiable trait, his headband. That was sure to tip off the wrong crowd in Episar once they reached the city. And if he was accompanied by a large ninken then…well, it would take a very stupid crime syndicate to not go immediately underground at that much of tip off. Which brings them to his dealbreaker.

“Fine. But Akamaru cannot enter Episar with us.”

Kiba balks at that. “What?! Are you crazy?!”

“It’s really important that we not be recognised as a threat.”

“You mean, it’s important that we not be recognised at all,” Kiba says coyly. He narrows his eyes with suspicion, all of the allure from before dropped from his posture. “What’s really going on here? Cos’ I have the distinct feeling that I’m bringing fists to a knife fight. Why are we laying so low? We must have skipped four towns today. Quit bullshitting me.” He points an accusing finger in Kankuro’s face.

“The situation between Suna and Episar is…complicated,” says Kankuro in a strained voice. “Politically.”

Kiba leans forward, obviously waiting for futher detail. Kankuro chews the inside of his cheek. Now would be the opportune time to explain the whole situation, right down to his hand in marriage as a bargaining chip. But again, he hesitates. He feels like admitting his lack of choice in the situation would signify a weakness, an unattractive one at that. So once more, he omits the whole truth and tells Kiba about the water crisis, Episar’s poverty, their spurned princess, his dickhead father. When he has recalled the whole story, Kiba sits back with a whistle.

“Well, that’s fucked up,” he says.

_You don’t even know the worse part_ , Kankuro thinks.

—

The disguises are pretty standard. Kankuro will have to shuck his usual black layers for a pair of beige trousers and linen wrap top. Taking the battery-powered shaver and his cleaning supplies, he goes to wash in the safety of the night. When he returns, he is sporting a bare face and shorn head. He’s also changed into his light coloured clothes. The wrap dips heavily and more of his chest is showing than he feels comfortable with. It’s something he’d never wear in a million years.

It’s the perfect disguise.

Kankuro knows he is at an advantage over others in how quickly he can slip into anonymity. Wearing heavy and distinct faceprint every day ensures that he is easily recognisable to his enemies, but also instantly unrecognisable without. He has often found that without his siblings flanking his side, people often don’t look twice at him.

But Kiba is staring.

He wonders if the light of the glow stick is casting weird shadows, from the was Kiba seems to be exploring his face. Kankuro takes the opportunity to do the same. While Kiba has changed into the lighter trousers, he’s put the mesh shirt on underneath the wrap top similar to Kankuro’s own. He hasn’t removed his own triangular marks however, so Kankuro leans over to hand him the damp washcloth he’d just cleaned in the pool. Kiba leans in also, until suddenly they are very close together.

Kankuro swallows nervously, but doesn’t move away. He’s close enough to smell the other man and, for once, Kiba doesn’t smell like dog. Instead the scent of rainwater and the sweet dusty earthy smell of the desert radiates around him. Kankuro finds himself drifting closer.

He blinks. Hard. He notices Kiba leaning in also and rears back, putting professional distance between them. His hand finds it way to the back of his head and scratches his newly buzzed scalp. It’s not right down to the skin, but it’s enough that a faint scritching sound can be hear as he offers the cloth to Kiba.

“Here,” he says. “For your face paint.”

“Huh?” It was Kiba’s turn to blink. The man hadn’t moved or spoken except to lean forward since Kankuro sat down. “What face paint?”

“Uh, your markings? The red fangs? They’re very recognisable.”

“Oh. These are tattoos,” he says as he brings up a finger to scratch his cheek then shows it to Kankuro. True to his word, no blood-red pigment adorns the digit.

“Ah, fuck.”

Kiba was going to be harder to disguise than he thought.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankuro and Kiba test the boundaries as they arrive in Episar.

“This thing is suffocating me.”

“It’s not suffocating you.”

“It is!”

“It’s not!”

“It is!”

“It’s n-oh, this is stupid! Just shut up! We’re not supposed to be attracting attention here, dumbass.”

Kiba bristled, but stopped rearranging the desert scarf Kankuro had dubbed his disguise. It’s grey checkers wrapped around Kiba’s forehead and then again around the lower half of his face, leaving only his eyes and ears exposed. It wasn’t ideal, but it certainly covered up the red fangs that would instantly give Kiba away as a member of the Inuzuka clan. He wasn’t sure if main Leaf families were particularly known in this section of the country, but it would be a good guess to say they were aware of ninken clan as a possible source of fighting dogs.

Akamaru had stayed behind. He was simply too big to not be recognisable as a threat. For this reason, Kiba was sulking. And nitpicking.

“This disguise sucks,” he complained with a huff.

“Does it work?”

“Well…yeah, but-”

“-Then it doesn’t suck. It’s your own fault for getting a _face tattoo_.”

“Stop shitting on my clan’s tradition!”

“Stop shitting on my disguise!”

Despite the scarf covering the majority of Kiba’s face, Kankuro could tell from the fire in his eyes that he’d plastered on a scowl. However, Kiba chose not to respond, instead resorting to muttering expletives under his breath and looking away into the crowds.

They’d reached the outskirts of Episar in the early hours of the morning, electing to travel through the night instead of making camp once again. They took turns napping until dawn, watching the city from the green hills that surrounded it. It was strange. The greenery. All at once, the barren desert ended, and tended fields began. The ridges echoed with the sound of goat bells and swaying fruits trees. All over, Kankuro was seeing abundance. It betrayed his knowledge that Episar was truly a town of poverty, when they seems to have such plenty outside their city walls.

Inside the city walls, it was a different story altogether. They entered through a small unassuming gate at the south end of the city, having left Akamaru at their small camp up on the ridge. There was no sign announcing the name of the city or any fan fair to welcome visitors. If he hadn’t been directed to this exact location, he’d have had to ask someone the name of the town. And looking at the people they encountered, he wanted to do nothing more than ask anything of them. The hardship of life there was evident on the face of every man, woman and child. Suddenly ashamed, Kankuro kept his head down as he unobtrusively observed the bustling street around him. If he was relaying this information to others, he would call it an residential area. Or even, an informal dwelling. But in reality, it was clear this place was a slum. People crowded everywhere in the narrow walkway. A group of barefoot children shuffled past them, running ahead with a carefree haste Kankuro hasn’t felt since childhood. All around him were bodies. They pressed up against him, grabbed his arms to push past, argued over his head, and all the while ignoring the two unassuming men travelling amongst their midst.

Without his makeup and clothes, Kankuro had felt nothing but exposed and uncomfortable. However, walking amongst the streets of Episar, he’s never felt more invisible. It’s good. It means their mission will go more smoothly, if he isn’t recognised.

They loop the area twice, idly stopping to observe the wares in a market square. Kiba sniffs the air periodically, before leading them towards a stall selling grapes near the central well. An elderly man watches the stall, shouting his prices to people passing by. He shouts at them too. But, his grapes look nothing like the ones he’d seen outside the city. They look shrivelled and lacklustre, as if they were the worst lot of the crop. But of all the other fruits and vegetables he sees around him are much them same, Kankuro notices. Kiba give him a nod, indicating this stall smells like the ninken they found.

A child crouches low beneath the wooden counter of the stall. He is small-thinner than thin-and scantily clad. His ragged yellow vest hangs low in the neck, like he’s been dragged up by his scruff enough times to stretch out the fabric. Kankuro brushes Kiba’s arm to instruct him to pause two stalls away and picks up some dried garlic for inspection while he peeks at the grape stall. Kiba leans in as if also appraising the vegetable. He brings his hand up to join Kankuro’s, slowly brushing his ungloved fingertips over his knuckles.

Heat floods Kankuro’s body as he becomes hyper aware of that spot on the back of his hand. It isn’t a pretty hand, covered in small stringy scars, but right now it twitches with Kiba’s touch. He hadn’t even realised it was that sensitive.

“You’re looking a little red there, Kankuro,” teases Kiba as the man pushes his finger into the cleft between Kankuro’s index and middle digits. Kankuro curses and drops the garlic back down to the basket he got it from. With a small thought to the vest of the small child he had seen, he grabs a fistful of Kiba’s shirt at the breastbone and begins dragging him through the stalls. When they reach a deserted tail end of a few kiosks, he slams Kiba against a wooden wall.

Hard.

The whole stall shakes and a startled shout radiates from within, but no one circles round the back. The owner chastises some local kids instead. Kiba is smirking. Kankuro can tell by his eyes. And although he is the one who has the Leaf ninja held up against a wall, Kankuro feels like the one who is trapped.

He’ll need to do something about that.

He leans closer, tilting his head to the side as he goes, and stares into Kiba’s eyes. Kankuro lowers his lids in a way he _knows_ is attractive and Kiba’s own lashes flicker as he intakes a short breath in response, surprised to see his advances returned. Raising his free arm to the wall behind him, he leans his entire forearm against it, effectively pinning Kiba into the bracket of his arm. The hand grasped around Kiba’s shirt pulls and Kankuro suddenly drops his mouth to hover by Kiba’s opposite ear. He does nothing but breathe hotly against the shell of cartilage, but Kiba’s entire body shudders and then melts against the wall, as if his bones have left his body.

Kankuro smiles, and lets the curved edge of his lips press against the cartilage, before whispering, “Not nice to tease, is it?”

Then he pulls away entirely as the child in the yellow vest barrels through the gaps in the stalls and straight into Kankuro’s legs.The grapes he was holding go flying, but he is up again before they know it and disappears into the narrow streets with his stolen bounty. Kiba still sags against the wall, his eyes vacant and ears flushed. The stall owner yells after the thief but makes no move to give chase.

“Oi, dog boy,” Kankuro snaps his fingers and Kiba snaps out of his daze. “Go follow the grape seller. Find out what you can from him. I’m going to go after the boy. Meet you back at the base.”

“Yes, sir,” Kiba says automatically. He turns to go follow his orders but Kankuro catches the front of his shirt in his hands once again. He hauls him close until their mouths would be a mere inch apart had Kiba not been wearing his scarf across his face.

“And Inuzuka?” He growls lowly. Kiba’s eyes widen, his pupils dilating. “Don’t fuck with me.”

Kankuro throws him away from him then, and disappears like the boy down the same narrow streets leaving an incredibly flustered Leaf ninja in his wake.

Neither notices the lone figure watching from the roofs above.

—

Luckily, Kankuro had the forethought to attach a chakra string to the boy as he had dashed past them. He follows it now as it winds through impossible alleyways and even _through_ poor-constructed homes. He’s would quickly become lost if he’d allowed himself to wander. It was impossible to track anyone through any other chakra methods, considering the throngs of people. The stench was unbearable. Trash, along with open sewers, littered the streets and as he observed some of the impoverished scenes, the hot shame he’d felt earlier was brought back to the forefront of his mind. What had Suna done for this city? How were they allowing this to happen?

Soon he turned a corner to find a group of children huddling under a loose sheet of corrugated iron. A few younger ones were stationed in front of it, begging those who passed for food or change. No one seemed to have either in this area and the children were steadfastly ignored. Glimpsing a flash of faded yellow inside, Kankuro watched as the boy distributed grapes amongst the five or so children within. They all sat together and munched on their spoils, one child even taking the time to rip the skin of the grape off with his teeth before popping the whole fruit into his mouth. They chatted animately to the boy in yellow, clearly the oldest amongst them. He didn’t look older than eight, Kankuro reckoned, although he’d alway been bad at guessing the ages of children.

The boy in the yellow vest rose again, and ducked back out of the little hideout. He handed the children outside a few grapes each, then ran back down the way he had come, passing Kankuro on his way. He kept the chakra string attached, and followed the boy, waited a few minutes for him to turn into a deserted area.

“Hey, kid,” he called, once he was sure they were alone. Or as alone as you could be in this city. “How’d you like you make a quick buck?” The child turned to face him and Kankuro recognised the instant distrust in his eyes, a second too late, as the boy bolted down the narrow street. Kankuro sighed, then twitched his fingers. The string wrapped around the boy’s thin arm jerked taut, and the boy was flung to a halt. Kankuro held out his index finger and slowly reeled in the string to bring the boy closer to him. It was a thick strand of chakra, more like a ribbon than a cord, which coiled around his arm. The boy struggled and began to shout.

“Help! Help! Please, help! He’s going to take me!”

A window was shut above their heads, but no one heeded the boy’s pleas.

Which was insanely depressing. Also, looking like a child snatcher wasn’t a look he was fond to continue, regardless if the locals cared or not if a small child was plucked from right in front of their eyes.

What _was_ this place?

Kankuro stopped reeling in the boy. Instead, he began walking towards him, holding him in place. Maybe trapping this child wasn’t the best idea, considering he wanted to ask him for information. When he was around two metres from the child, he stopped and threw a bag of coin onto the ground between them.

“I’m not going to take you, I just want to talk. If you want, you can hold onto that bag of coin in the meantime. But know, you can’t escape me until you cooperate.”

The boy’s eyes betrayed the fury he felt towards the Sand nin, and while he wasn’t crying, his glare brimmed with unshed tears. Futile fingers still attempted to unwrap the coil of invisible wire.

“Really, I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to take you. I want to help you, and your friends back there. I just need some information first,” explained Kankuro. The boys eyes had widened at the mention of the other children and he rushed down to pick up the coin on the ground, feeling the weight of it in his palm, feeling the worth of it in full bellies.

Kankuro took his acceptance of the coin as compliance and asked his first question. “That man you stole from, who is he?”

“Which man? I steal lots of things.” The boy still eyed him suspiciously.

Kankuro snorted at the boy’s disparaging answer.

“The man you stole the grapes from, then. Just now. You crashed into me during your escape.”

“…He is the grape seller.”

Kankuro rolled his eyes, this was going to be harder than he thought. “Obviously,”he said, sounding annoyed. “I mean what does he do _on the side?”_ He let the inflection in his voice do the talking for him, and by the uncomfortable look the boy gave to the side, he knew what Kankuro was talking about.

 _“_ I don’t know.”

“Does he have dogs?” Fear flashed across the boys face as he mentioned the animal and he dropped the coin bag, once again desperately trying to detach the invisible string from his arm. Surprised at the reaction, Kankuro attempted to calm him. “Hey, hey, hey! Okay! Okay!”

He bent to pick up the bag and bringing the boy closer he put it into his hands. The boy knew something, but Kankuro didn’t want to push. It was likely Kiba would find all this out in his reconnaissance anyway. Instead, glad to be away from the Leaf nin’s enquiring eyes, he could pursue a different line of questioning.

“Where does the Princess live?”

The boy’s brow muddled into a confused frown. “The Princess?”

“Yeah. Your leader? A woman?”

The boy frowns deeper. “…The Maharani? She lives in the castle. She doesn’t really do anything though,” he explains.

“She doesn’t?” It was Kankuro’s turn to be confused. “Then who controls the city?”

“Kutta controls everything here,” the boy says, then puts his hand quickly over his mouth like he’s said too much. He once again frantically tugs his hand to try free himself. But Kankuro still has answers he needs.

“Who is Kutta?”

“N-no,”says the boy weakly. “I can’t. Please. Let me go!” The tears are back in the boy’s eyes as he pleads with Kankuro to release him.

“Just give me a direction,” Kankuro says. “North. South. East. Or West. Then I’ll let you go.” Kankuro plonks a second bag of coin at the boy’s feet. His eyes widen.

“West,” he whispers.

Kankuro releases his hold with a flash of blue chakra and, like earlier, the boy disappears into the maze of streets and alleyways. Both coin purses gone with him.

—

He returns to their camp outside the city. Akamaru perks up upon his arrival but dampens down again once he realises he’s come alone. Kiba is still inside the city, hopefully finding some good intel from the stall owner. Kankuro sits overlooking the town and casts his eyes to the western quarter. Tomorrow, he’ll have Kiba scent the area for possible criminal hideouts, if what the kid had said was to be believed.

Kankuro could still hear the din of people from his vantage point, the sheer overcrowding of that small area leading to impossible noise. Workers scurried in the fields below, pruning the vines and trees. Midday had come and gone and the sun was perched almost directly overhead. The heat was astonishing. A glint of light caught Kankuro’s eye as he trailed his eyes back over the city. Once his eyes landed on the dilapidated ruin on the opposite hill overlooking the town, he realised this must be the castle the boy had spoke of.

Despite it’s crumbling state, it was a majestic sight. Weather-worn stone walls surrounded the central building with its singular square tower. There wasn’t a pane of glass anywhere on the keep, the reflection of sunlight Kankuro had see came from a shining shield mounted above the closed castle doors. He could see there was a sigil on the metal, but from this distance it was impossible to tell what it detailed.If anything it looked more like a fort than anything; built for defence and protection. Although, in it’s current state, it looked like it was one sandstorm away from completely toppling over. Kankuro wondered where in this ruin the Princess resided. Did she occupy the top room of the tower, where a purple and yellow flag flutters in the breeze, or perhaps down below in the smaller buildings within the walls. Where would he reside when he inevitably moved here?

The dungeons. Most likely.

This town was a testament to Suna’s failures. It’s poverty. It’s crime. It’s poor quality of life. The Land of Wind should have done more. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.

—-

Kiba returned at dusk with good news. The boy hadn’t lied. There truly _was_ a hideout in the western quarter. Or rather, not a hideout but a well-known hub for the criminal activities the city had gained a reputation for. Apparently the place this Kutta character was hiding out in. And the majority of the dogs if Kiba’s nose was anything to trust. The other man was sullen and unusually quiet. He’d followed the stall owner all the way to the western location, confirming their information. Now they could plan for infiltration.

“Do you think you were spotted?” Kankuro teased, unconsciously trying to alleviate the other man’s mood. His scarf has been thrown to the ground.

Kiba balked. “What kind of two-bit shinobi do you take me for, asshole?!”

“I dunno. You don’t seem all that stealthy. To me, at least.”

“Shut up!” Kiba said, aggressively, and throws himself up out of the crouch he’d put himself in beside Akamaru. “I’m not in the mood! Just get to the plan. We need to get those dogs out of there as soon as possible.”

At this point, Kankuro probably should have noticed his companion’s tension, the stiff line of his shoulders, how Kiba kept rubbing his ears against his neck as if to wipe away an unpleasant sound.If he’d noticed, they maybe he wouldn’t have pushed the boundaries a bit more, still annoyed at the boundary pushing Kiba had been doing of his own, and craving some retaliation.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He asks with a chuckle. Kiba’s hackles raise and his hands ball into fists. Kankuro raises his hands and attempts to placate with a smirk. “Whoah. Calm down, boy. It was only a joke.”

Kiba rounds on him, nostrils flaring. He points his finger in Kankuro’s face. The nail has elongated, along with his fangs. “You think this is a _joke_? Ninken are suffering down there. I could _hear_ it. The crying. The pups calling for their mothers, and dogs fighting to their deaths, and you think it’s a _joke_. We should be down there rescuing them _now_.” Kiba is heaving air into his lungs and pulls back with a repulsed look on his face, as if the closer contact he’d been plaguing Kankuro with all week suddenly disgusts him.

The feeling that he’s royally fucked up hits Kankuro tenfold.

“O-obviously, I don’t think it’s a joke,” he tries to clarify. He lets out a grunt of frustration. He wasn’t good at this. The line between facetiousness and seriousness was one he toed too often. He didn’t like exposing what he really felt. Humour was a crutch he’d been falling on since his teen years. If you couldn’t make fun of something, it beat you. Obviously he didn’t find the abuse going on here funny. But he got the feeling Kiba needed to hear that honestly. Biting his tongue, he said “I was just trying to ease the tension. You seemed…off. Personally…I use dark humour to cope with difficult things. I thought, maybe…It doesn’t matter. Sorry.”

The other man avoided his eyes, and if he was surprised at Kankuro honesty, he gave nothing away. After a few seconds he gave the barest nod of acknowledgement as he picked small weeds from the rocky ground. His claws receded.

“S’fine. I guess,” admitted Kiba. “…what’s the plan?”

Kankuro looked back out at the city which was shutting down for the night. A small light flickered in the upstairs turret of the castle. He sighed. “For now, we watch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! Hope you guys enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes!
> 
> Catch me over on Tumblr as 'krankuro' if you want a chat!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankuro and Kiba do some reconaissance.

“This plan sucks _balls_.”

Suffice to say, Kiba hated the plan.

Confronted as he was earlier with the sounds of abuse from the western quarter, Kiba was struggling with the reconnaissance portion of the mission. They could advance and attack the base directly, Episar didn’t have a ninja presence or academy, so it was unlikely they were to receive any shinobi-level resistance. Even so, they needed to properly assess the situation. It was only the two of them, and there was no way Kankuro was going in there unprepared.

Kiba seemed ready to storm the whole town.

Leg shaking, he crouched atop the roof of a nearby building overlooking the entrance to the hideout. This area was less crowded than others, and what people they did spot scurried with their heads down as if one look up would mean their downfall. Judging by the disrepute of the area, it made sense that they didn’t want to attract the wrong attention.

The hideout wasn’t hiding anything. It dominated the area, like a junkyard palace with sprawling low buildings and vast storage halls. Inconspicuously, guards patrolled every entrance, checking every person before admittance into the hideout. Kankuro counted at least fifteen armed guards, and they still hadn’t figured out the security rotation.

“We can’t infiltrate without knowing all the guard rotations first,” explained Kankuro. “I’m not going in unprepared.” Kiba huffed beside him and pulled down his scarf in agitation. “Hey, keep that on,” he added. “We can’t be recognised.” Kankuro took his eyes away from the buildings ahead to look at his companion. Kiba was adjusting the scarf on his head until it came loose entirely. Letting out a groan of frustration, he ripped the fabric from his head and raked his fingers through his hair. Kankuro reached out, ready to help Kiba rewrap the scarf, knowing he’d had trouble with it this morning, but the other man flinched as soon as the warmth of his hand encroached on his own. Kankuro pulled his hand back, confused.

“Sorry, I-“began Kiba, then he sighed. “It’s just that, I can hear them. The pups, the ninken. I can hear their cries so clearly, and, i-it’s hard. Not doing anything. Just sitting here. Watching.” He twisted the scarf in his hands as he spoke, as if practising exactly what he wanted to do to these men once he got his hands on them.

Kankuro puts his hands over Kiba’s, and extracted the knotted material. “We’ll get them,” he promised. “Just understand, I’m not waiting because I want to see them suffer, it’s a necessary evil. We need to be prepared. I can’t use my usual techniques. Puppets are out. We’re going to be at a disadvantage just because I can’t be recognised.” Kiba’s eyes met Kankuro’s own and whatever he saw there relaxed his shoulders slightly and he leaned his head forward for Kankuro to rewrap his head.

Before the fabric covered his mouth, Kiba stilled his hand and looked him in the eyes once again. “Just know,” he said. “I can’t wait forever.”

—

They watch from different vantage points for two more days. Kiba’s hackles rise higher and higher every hour until Kankuro thinks he will give their position away simply with the amount of grunts and groans he is letting out. Searching for a distraction for the other man, he settles on one of his hated past times.

Idle chit-chat.

“So…you have a sister?” The coolness of the night had descended a couple of hours before but Kiba still ran hot with frustration beside him. They hadn’t spoken in well over and hour now as they camped out in the crags nearest the hideout, watching for night-time activity. They’d figured out the guard rotation the day previous, and now Kankuro wanted to glean the perfect opportunity for infiltration. Night. Around eleven pm would be the perfect time, he thought, when many of the guards slept in shifts.

Kiba glared at the buildings alongside him. “Yeah,” he replied. “Hana.”

“Oh…cool.”

Silence.

Kiba then turned to him, suspicion clear in the squint of his eyes. “Why?”

“Ah, no reason. Just…ya know… making conversation,” he finished pathetically. Suddenly embarrassed, although he had no reason to be, he cast his own face away from Kiba’s. “I, also, have a sister.” He grimaced. That was woeful.

Kiba didn’t reply as first but continued to glance between Kankuro and the hideout quizzically. “You do,” he said, finally breaking the awkward silence. “Isn’t she…getting married soon?”

Relief flooded through Kankuro as Kiba threw him a bone, recognising his muddied attempts at conversation for what they were. “Yeah, in a few months time actually. I’ll be in Konoha for the ceremony. I’m sure I’ll see you there.”

“I haven’t received an invitation yet. But yeah, I’m sure I’ll see you,” he added. Kankuro could tell he was grinning even through the scarf. Turning away from the hideout once more he faced Kankuro again. “So, is your sister moving to Konoha full time? I couldn’t imagine Hana leaving for another village. I’d miss her.”

He responds with a slow nod as a feeling of gloom settles over Kankuro’s shoulders, weighing him down. It’s a feeling he is familiar with, when he thinks about his sister’s permanent move to Konoha. Temari has been flitting between the two Villages for nearly two years now, on one joint mission or another. Being the sister of a Village leader had it’s benefits when you wanted to see your long-term boyfriend on the regular. He still saw her often enough, for extended periods throughout the year, but that was going to change now. Once she married, he would see her less and less.

It was saddening.

Kankuro was going to get so drunk at the wedding.

“Yup,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Marrying some Konoha scrub. Embarrassing really. She’s brought great shame on our clan.”

Kiba chuckles, watching him now from the side of his eye.

“I’m going to get so drunk at that wedding,” he responds, and then it was Kankuro’s turn to laugh.

“Me too. I’m talking blackout drunk.”

Then he remembers the next time he sees Kiba, he’ll be a married man of his own right. He wonders if he’ll even make it to the wedding. The smile drops from his lips, and Kiba, noticing his somber mood, makes to question it. But instead, his head snaps back to the hideout and he rises to his feet, seething in anger. People have been steadily trickling into the hideout all evening, more so than usual. Kankuro figured there must have been some sort of event or gathering. Judging by Kiba’s look now, he’s figured out the cause.

“It’s a dog fight,” he fumed. “A big one. Kankuro, we need to break this up. _Now_.” Kiba grabbed a kunai from his belt and makes to jump from the roof.

Kankuro yanked him back by the arm, his fingers clutching hard enough to leave bruises. “This _isn’t_ the plan,” he hissed, not wishing to draw attention. “I know it’s hard but we have no idea how many guards or people are in there right now. We can’t get outnumbered.”

Kiba wrenched his arm back, directing all his fury onto Kankuro. “Are you serious? These guys aren’t even shinobi! We can take them, easy! I’m sick of listening to the suffering! You can stay here, but I’m going in!”

Panic fills Kankuro’s head as he watched Kiba prepare to ruin their entire operation.

“Kiba!” He wraps a hand around the other man’s arm once again, dragging him close. “Don’t make me pull rank.”

Kiba couldn’t ignore a command from his team leader, to do so would result in a punishment for insubordination upon his return to Konoha. Kankuro was in charge, he called the shots. Hurt, then anger, flashed across Kiba’s face as he loosened the scarf to reveal his mouth. Crowding up against the Sand nin, he got directly into Kankuro’s face, rising to his full height. “Go ahead,” he spat. “Do it.”

“Kiba,”pleaded Kankuro.

“No, go on, Kankuro. _Pull your rank_ ,” he seethed. His breaths were coming out in harsh pants through his fanged teeth. Kankuro couldn’t tell if Kiba’s claws were extended, but he felt it was a sure thing.

“Stand down,” he said with more authority than he felt. “And return to base. You’re done for tonight.”

Kiba made no effort to move out of Kankuro’s headspace, continuing with his intimidation. They were so close, their noses brushed against one another and that brief sensation broke the tension as Kankuro backed away to crouch down once again, eyes trained on the hideout.

“That was an order, Inuzuka,” he threw over his shoulder, clenching his teeth.

He didn’t hear Kiba leave, but felt his chakra vanish over a minute later.

Kankuro could hear the barking and squeals coming from the hideout, now that Kiba’s presence wasn’t there to drown out his surroundings.

___

An hour later found Kankuro in the same position. The sounds of dog fighting hadn’t let up. Instead the shouts and jeers of men enjoying their inhumane sport rose from the compound, sickening Kankuro with their entertained cries. Kankuro felt disgusted, but this must have been unbearable for Kiba, listening to the very creature him and his clan had devoted themselves to being beaten and bloodied. And killed.

Every few minutes, a door opened and a small canine body was thrown out into the the yard. Some unmoving. Some whimpering meekly. About four dog corpses had built up during the course of the hour, and Kankuro had to restrain himself from jumping down there numerous times.

Kankuro watched the back entrance of the shed, where clearly the matches were happening inside. The day previous, the two shinobi had watched as men trained the ninken in ripping apart toy animals and heavy blankets. Kiba had sneered in disgust, promised to make sure those men ended their lives from his kunai.

And Kankuro had sent him away.

Remorse cut through him quickly, as it had since Kiba left. That situation had escalated quickly and he wondered if he could have handled it better. A stab of pain flared through his eyes at the repetitive thought; he’d been staring at the one spot for too long. Blinking quickly and rubbing his eyes, he nearly missed the blur of movement on the roof of the shed.

Two shadowy figures crouched low on the roof.

As they vaulted to the yard below and squat next to the abandoned ninken, he could tell that one was a man, but the other shape was distinctly canine.

Kankuro’s eyes widened as he launched himself from his hiding place.

“Dammit, Kiba!”

Kankuro didn’t think twice as he crossed into the complex. He reached Kiba just as the other man began checking over the injured animals.

“What are you doing?!”

“What does it look like I’m doing?! I can’t leave them!” Kiba whispered loudly, obviously some of his self-preservation was in place. “They’ll die. I can save these ones.” He roughly pushed Kankuro away from him.“Go,” he said. “You don’t want to be recognised.” There was derision in his voice before it switched to soothing tones as he placated the fussing pup in his hands. Kankuro groaned in frustration, looking around the otherwise empty yard. They were right out in the open. Someone only need come through that door and they would be caught. A cheer erupted from inside. Akamaru growled.

“We need to leave,” he pleaded. “ _Please,_ Kiba.”

“Just thirty more seconds. If they catch us, we can take them,” he stated, too far gone in his compassion to think about their situation. “Akamaru, take these.” Two shivering pups were hefted into Akamaru’s mouth as he gently held them by the scruff.

The back door swung open until it hit the far wall with a clang. Kankuro pulled out a kunai.

“Hey!” A group of men carrying a dog easily half the size of Akamaru paused were there were dumping the remains in the yard. The saw Kankuro’s weapon. “Shinobi, in the yard!”

They were out of time. Kiba was still attending to the dogs. He nods at the other man.

“I’ll hold them off.”

—

Kankuro could fight without his puppets. He was a Jounin-level shinobi, after all. But given the choice, he preferred long-range attacks and never liked to get up close and personal with his targets. It’s why he had mastered his craft at poisons. He could watch his prey from afar while striking devastating blows to his opponents.

So being a long-range fighter, close-combat against other shinobi was certainly his weakness.

But he wasn’t weak.

And these men weren’t shinobi.

He dispatched the small group with ease, but he could hear shouts from within the complex. An alarm had been raised. He once again looked to Kiba who seemed to have finished up with he wounded pups. Akamaru was carrying the two and Kiba had a third in his arms, this one a much bigger dog. Blood leaked steadily from a bite on it’s head. Kiba’s hands were covered in it.

More shouts echoed from the alley leading to the backyard.

“You ready?” Kankuro could feel the anger slipping into his voice as he inwardly cursed the man for getting them into this situation. There would be no infiltrating the hideout now, considering they had alerted the criminals to their presence. They’d have their guard up from now on. Gritting his teeth, he marched over and stood over the other man. “There’ll be consequences for this,” he assured.

Kiba had the audacity to look him in the eye and reply, “Worth it.”

Grunting in frustration, Kankuro blurred out of the yard, leaving Kiba to follow his trail back to their cliffside base. Once he was running at high speed, he caught a glimpse of Akamaru at his side, and turned to further berate his companion.

“What the fuck were y-wait,” he gasped. Akamaru looked back at him as he paused, three pups in his mouth.

Kiba was nowhere to be seen.

“That son of a bitch!”

—

Upon his return to the yard, everything was engulfed in smoke. The grey-purplish tone told him it was a shinobi’s smoke bomb rather than an actual fire, so he guessed that Kiba had distributed the distraction. More men were in the yard than before and they ran aimlessly through the fog, coughing and spluttering, looking for their target. It was a futile attempt, as Kankuro reasoned, if he was Kiba and he had distracted the group, he would go exactly where he wanted to in the first place.

The kennels.

So Kankuro continued on, through the smoke, tasting it’s sour odour in his mouth, and to where he thought he would find the other shinobi. He was correct, Kiba was whistling to the ninken in the kennels, some of whom immediately sprang to obedience and attention, others a little behind. Each ninken wore a curiously hi-tech looking collar, different to the ninken from before.Launching down to the other man, he reached out a fist and punched him right across the face. It wasn’t packed with his usual strength, he noticed, but it would have stung all the same.

Kiba clutched his cheek and looked ready to retaliate when he caught a glimpse of Kankuro’s face.

“How fucking dare you?” He sputtered in the Leaf ninja’s direction as he grabbed him by the shirt. “This is proper insubordination. You have fucked up this whole operation, you selfish fuck!”

Kiba looked slightly chagrined. “But, the dogs-“

“And the countless others you have sentenced to death because you couldn’t wait! We were supposed to disband this entire operation, not plan some doggy prison break, idiot,” he said with venom. “If you think these guys are going to let their guard down after this, think again!” One of the ninken whines in it’s kennel, Kiba’s eyes flick to it with pity.

“Kankuro, I _had_ to-“

“I don’t want to hear it! We need to get out of here, right now! And you are coming with me this time, no lying, no distractions, no stupid smoke bombs,” He casts a chakra string in Kiba’s direction, attempting to restrain the other man so he can drag him out of there.

But nothing happens.

He tries again.

Nothing. He can’t access his chakra at all.

“What the hell?”

“I thought you cast the smoke bombs,” Kiba says with confusion.

Kankuro feels the acrid aftertaste of the smoke in his mouth, realising he should have recognised it for the poison it was. A chakra eating poison.

“Hello, boys,” said a deep voice from their right. They turn to brace themselves, kunai’s drawn. A tall thin man stands in the shadows of the high wall that borders the kennels. A deep red robe falls from his shoulders in sharp contrast to the slicked back blonde hair on his head. Scars run across his throat, and his leer is mocking. “Fancy seeing two shinobi here in my little establishment.” He takes a step towards them, pulling a small device from his trouser pocket. The two shinobi don’t respond, but remain alert. Without their chakra, they’ll have to rely on taijutsu. But Kankuro was confident they could take this man alone.

“I suppose I should introduce myself,” said the man, pausing in his approach. He clicks a button on the side of what Kankuro now sees is a little remote. Vicious growling erupts behind them at the motion, while the man smiles. “The name’s Kutta. This is my home. And I don’t remember extending an invitation to Suna, _Kankuro_ _of the Desert_.” He fixes his eyes on Kankuro then, a hungry look in his eyes.

Fuck. He’d overheard. Kiba growls beside him. Kankuro sends a glare his way. It was his fault they were in this mess in the first place.And in that split second, Kutta pressed the large button on his remote.

Then the cages open, and thirty ninken descend upon them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me ages to write and I really don't know why!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankuro and Kiba fight some ninken.

The area immediately flooded with fog as Kankuro loosened a smoke bomb from his hand.Three shuriken followed soon after.

“Don’t harm the ninken!” Kiba’s barked plea broke through the haze and the clamour of the approaching hounds. He’d crouched low and lunged away from Kankuro, drawing many of the dogs with him.

“Tsk.” Still unable to access his chakra and utilise his puppets, Kankuro retreated to the roof of the kennels, watching Kiba evade the fray below. The yard was a swirling mass of fur and claws, Kiba included, while he effortlessly wrangled the ninken into tape bindings he’d produced from who knows where. Kankuro couldn’t make out a thing except for the blinking lights of the dogs’ collars lit up the smoke, like lightning in the clouds.

But with Kiba dispatching the ninken, Kankuro could focus on their assailant.

Kutta hadn’t moved. Instead he leaned against the wall of the yard, watching Kiba’s obscured movements with a smug look. He held up his remote and pointed it towards the fog. The snarling of the dogs became more frenzied and Kankuro heard a curse and a shout of pain. If that remote was controlling the ninken, he needed to get his hands on it.

Now.

Kutta’s gaze found him then, perched as he was above him His sneer was irritating, and a kunai quickly found itself in Kankuro’s hand as he vaulted down to wipe it off his face.

But just when he was about to strike, a snarling ninken sprang between the blade and Kutta, impaling itself on Kankuro’s kunai. Hot blood splashed onto his hands but the animal didn’t even so much as squeal. Instead, it immediately clamped it’s large jaws down onto Kankuro’s shoulder, and a groan escaped him as he felt sharp teeth slide deeply into his flesh. He tried to jerk away, but the animal held fast. When he turned to assess the wound, it’s eyes fastened Kankuro with rabid attention, and it reminded him of how Gaara used to look in the middle of one of his murderous frenzies.

The blinking light of it’s collar stood out to Kankuro, and he linked it to Kutta’s remote. He must have a way of controlling the animals.

So, despite Kiba’s initial request, he pulled out the kunai and sunk it into the beast once again. But it was Kankuro who groaned, teeth clenched with pain, as the ninken only sunk his own teeth in _more_. The dog’s canines must surely be brushing each other within the meat of his shoulder.“Fuck,” he swore, as his hands, slick with blood, slipped off the kunai. The dog took the opportunity to pick Kankuro up by the shoulder and slam him to the ground on his back. So stunned as he is by the force behind the animal’s thrashing and crushing weight, that the wooden beam approaching his head takes him completely by surprise.

And he’s pinned by the dog. He couldn’t dodge it.

The beam slammed into the side of his head.

For a moment, he lost his senses. His vision blinked out, and the sound of Kiba’s ongoing struggle is muffled to his ears. He thought he heard his name, but it’s deadened, like he is at the end of a pool. He doesn’t pass out, and soon everything comes back to him in a rushing wave that somehow leaves him more disorientated than before. The dog’s jaws have loosened and Kankuro thought it must have finally succumbed to it’s wounds. But there’s no time to feel sorry for the creature, as Kutta stood above him, sneering down with a greasy face and a too large smile.

“Kaaaaankuro, Kankuurro, Kannnkuroooo,” he taunted. The man lifted his dirty boot and pressed down on the dogs head, sending it’s teeth into Kankuro’s shoulder once again. Kankuro grunted with pain and struggled to lift the animal from his body. “Goodness, you aren’t so great without your toys, are you?”

His comment reminded Kankuro of Kiba, and he turns his head to see the Konoha-nin fighting desperately to get to him, but constantly assailed by numerous ninken. He couldn’t reach him at all. “Kiba!” The shout sounded weak and miserable, but it had it’s intended distraction as Kutta reared back and laughs deeply, allowing Kankuro to reach for his pocket.

“How pathetic? Going to rely on your boyfriend to save you?” Kankuro grit his teeth as the beam is brought back to strike once again.

“No,” he said, and rammed a poisoned senbon into Kutta’s calf where it still rests roughly on the ninken’s corpse.

Kutta recoiled, but quickly regains his composure as he removes the senbon from his leg. “You’ll pay for that, you Suna rat,” he spat. Kankuro doesn’t have time to react before the beam is brought down across his temple once more.

This time, the darkness meets him.

—-

When he woke, he’s still in the same yard. Although this time, metal bars obscure his vision. The smell is sour and sharp; of urine and shit and dog. He could feel grit and grime on his face, coming from the floor where the smell is strongest. Blinking slowly, he raises his head. And sees a face behind the bars.

Kiba?

He is speaking, mouth moving furiously and too fast, and Kankuro can’t hear him. Shaking his head proves to fix his dilemma, although the sharp pain it sends through his skull was not worth the effort, especially when Kiba continues to shout his name, which Kankuro realises he’s been doing since he woke up.

“Alright, alright, shut up, I can hear you,” he said as he sits up attempts to clutch his head. His arms don’t move. They’ve been bound behind his back. His attempts to check their resistance sends more pain shooting through his shoulder, where the dog bite is bleeding sluggishly and darkened his clothes a deep brown on his right side. “Fuck, that hurts.” Abruptly he noticed his surroundings. They are locked in separate cages in the kennel yard. It’s still night time.

And around six shaking ninken share Kankuro’s cage. They piled almost on top of each other and the far side of the enclosure, as if terrified of his presence.

“They’re scared of you,” Kiba informed him, finally having stopped irritating Kankuro with excessive noise. In contrast to the dogs, Kiba leaned heavily against his on cage, almost trying to squeeze through the bars to get to Kankuro. “Your wound is bad. It’ll probably get infected.”

Kiba reached his hands through the bars and clumsily pulled Kankuro to lean against the wall of the kennel. The dogs whimpered in the corner. One clawed hand gripped Kankuro’s uninjured shoulder. It puzzled Kankuro. “Hey,” he said, nudging his hand with his chin. “Why aren’t your hands bound? How did they even capture you?”

Kiba paled at the question. Then sighed as if in defeat.

“Uh, those dogs,”he points. “In your cage. See the collars. If my cage opens, they are wired to turn into those rabid creatures from earlier. And attack you. He captured me the same way. ”

Kankuro closed his eyes. He felt exhausted, Kiba’s words aching him to his core. “You have a way out. You should take it. Regroup with Akamaru. Continue the mission.”

“Kank-“

“I’m valuable to them, Kiba! They won’t let me die, yet.” _I think,_ he added in his head.

“I’m not leaving you here to fend for yourself. I can’t!” Kiba wraps his other hand around the bars and fits his face against them, imploring Kankuro with his eyes. “I just _can’t_.”

“And why can’t you?” It’s an unfair question to ask. He knows it as soon at Kiba’s eyes widen. But it was Kiba’s compassion that go them into this mess and Kankuro feels his temper flare along with the pounding in his head.

“I’d leave you in a heartbeat,” Kankuro adds, and he’s not imagining the flash of hurt in the other man’s eyes before he casts his eyes away. “Although if the shoe was on the other foot we wouldn’t even be in this situation in the first place. It’s _your_ fuck up that led to this, idiot.”

Kiba doesn’t respond except to turn around fully and lean back against the bars. He makes no move to leave the cage, but Kankuro can’t say he’s all the surprised.

They’re shinobi, and guilt over poor decisions often goes hand-in hand with the profession. After all, when a mistake can led to the deaths of others, it’s only natural to regret your spur-of-the-moment choices. Kankuro understood that, he does, and now he felt his own guilt as the regret emanating from the ninja beside him is so strong he reckons he can actually physically touch it.

Although that could just be the immense amount of pain his body is in. The bite doesn’t look good, and it’s covered in dirt from the floor of the kennel. If it’s not cleaned soon, it’s sure to get infected.

“Kankuro, I’m really sorry,” Kiba said, breaking the silence. His voice cracks at the end of the sentence.

He sighed. “At least, help me get out of these bindings, dog breath,” he said in appeal to the other man. Kiba tilts his head slightly. “Do you have anything to clean this wound? And so help me if you suggest licking it clean I _will_ stab you.”

Kiba sniffs once, and then Kankuro can feel careful hands fiddling with the ropes at his wrists. He works in silence, and the tension is palpable. One of them needs to say something. Anything.

"I can't believe you got knocked out," Kiba says. "Aren't you a jounin?"

"Fuck. You."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter for you lovelies! Thank you again to all those who kudos, subscribe, bookmark and comment on this fic. It really means the world to me! 
> 
> Knakuro really has no idea how to fight ninken, Kiba's going to have to teach him some tricks!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankuro and Kiba are brought before their captor

The sun bakes down on them in the cages, filling Kankuro’s nostrils with the stench of excrement and his own body odour. Sweat stings his eyes where he is propped up against the rough concrete wall of the kennel. It’s been over a day since their confinement, and no one has come; not with food, drink nor demands. The dogs have long since sussed Kankuro out to not be threat, although they still startle if he shuffles into a new position, or begins a conversation with his neighbour. But those conversations are becoming few and far in between, as his shoulder wound takes it’s toll. The wall behind him is sticky with blood, sickening him slightly, but instead of moving, he’d decided to focus all his energy on stilling the shivers running through his frame.

Kiba notices anyway.

“Do you feel cold?” His voice is low, but imploring, as he stares at Kankuro from the other side of the bars, knuckles white as he grips them. “You look feverish.”

“I’m not cold,”replies Kankuro. A shudder racks his body once again, but this time he doesn’t bother to hold it in. He doesn’t think he could even if he tried. His head hasn’t stopped pounding since the night before, like enclosed within his skull are a class of shinobi students throwing kunai for the first time, and his brain is the target. “I’m tired,” he says wearily.

And he _is_. So tired. Exhausted even. Kiba hadn’t let him sleep at all during the night, kept prodding and prompting him to make sure his suspected concussion didn’t mean his slumber turning permanent.

Kankuro figured he was being dramatic. He was _fine_.

But as his chest heaved quicker and quicker with every passing hour ,while his mouth became as dry as desert dirt, he couldn’t deny he wasn’t getting better. He was getting a whole lot worse.The dog sharing his cage sniffed at aplastic carton in the corner of the cage, beside a food trough. Both were empty.

“Water?,” he managed, turning his head towards Kiba, sending another jab of pain through his head. It reminded him of the headache he’d had the morning after Gaara’s eighteen birthday celebration, where Kankuro had decided they needed a proper night out to celebrate his little brother coming of age. Although Gaara had refused to leave their house, or drink, so Kankuro drank enough for the both of them. Then passed out on the coffee table in their living room.

This one may have been worse though. Just slightly.

Kiba balked at the question. “There is some in the carton in this cage, but, it looks dirty.”

Drinking dirty water could mean a death sentence in the desert, but it was a death sentence without it too. Could he afford to get any sicker?

“Fuck,” he whispered, Kiba’s keen ears picking it up anyway. “Any chakra?”

“Still low,” said Kiba, grimly. Any hope Kankuro had of a healing just went out the window when he felt his own reserves equally depleted. They were returning. But so _slowly_. Kankuro was supposed to be an expert at poison, how did he let himself be fooled so easily? If he ever got out of here, he was going to need to get his hands on that poison, and study it’s effects.

“You could probably sleep now, though, if you need to,” Kiba prompts. “I’ll keep watch.” For what, Kankuro doesn’t know. But he mumbled the affirmative, and whatever response Kiba had for him was lost as he succumbed to stupor.

——

There was shouting, and pain, and heat.

Kankuro’s eyes shot open and looped wildly, trying to focus on ten things at once. From the sand furrowed beneath his knees, and the jerking pain in his shoulder he could tell he was being dragged by two other men. They were armed with blades and moved quickly, quick enough that Kankuro couldn’t get a hand on one of the knives before he saw a shed, and almost as soon as he noticed the grim grey exterior, he was being lugged inside. For a moment he was blind, as his eyes readjusted to the dim room. There was nothing in there but a single metal chair, and damp dark sand all over the floor.

It smelt like blood.

His stomach churned at the swirling aromas of death within the room. It came with realisation of his physical state. He didn’t feel good. At all. Burning pain radiated from his shoulder, and he felt the infection in the beads of sweat that trailed down his back.

A sharp push to his back forced him to the floor and on his knees, twinging his aching wound. He refused to utter a sound, but it left him panting heavily and weakened, his head falling to his chest. Once he heard muffled sounds around him, he gathered his delirium was worse than he thought. Trying to raise his head to see who was around him proved unsuccessful. But he managed to turn his head when he heard a loud thump from his right.

Kiba was struggling as he was tied to the chair. He was shouting. Or it looked like he was. Everything was getting very hazy, and Kankuro could feel himself swaying back and forth from his stooped position. Kiba fussed more and more, and flinging his head back, head butted the woman tying him to the chair. The blond-haired man assisting her growled and pulled a knife from his belt. It was small and curved, like a the claw of a reptile. It swam in front of his eyes and the gleam of it disorganised his thoughts. His head was suddenly very heavy, and he dropped it, feeling a prick of discomfort and a shout beside him. Strong fingers gripped his shorn skull, lifting it, and he felt warm liquid run down his throat. Glancing down, he noticed the curved knife below his chin.

Oh.

“Kiba,” he said. “Am bleedin’.”

“Maybe don’t drop your head down onto a knife then, idiot!” Kankuro found he could hear Kiba again, the pain sharping his focus slightly. His voice was high and almost shrill, having lost it’s usual gruffness.

“Cooperate,” commanded the blond haired man. “Or he gets the knife across his throat.”

Kankuro felt the hand holding his head release him, and his chin knocked again this chest once more. He heard nothing to his right but the fumbling of heavy ropes and the odd thud of what Kankuro guessed would have been a blow. The woman who’d been on the receiving end of Kiba’s headbutt must have taken her revenge. A string of profanity left the Konoha ninja’s mouth and if Kankuro had been in a better state of mind, he might have winced at the curses that spewed forth. But soon even those were snuffed out, and Kankuro managed to roll his head to the side once again to see that Kiba now had a leather belt strapped between his teeth. Their eyes met for a brief moment, before Kiba’s snapped to the large metal door in front of them, the one they hadn’t come through.

The door opened with a heavy clang.

And in strode Kutta, with his arms wide like this filthy room displayed the most wondrous of sights for his audience. The two people who followed him didn’t share his marvel, as was clear by the derision on their faces. They glanced around the room with disgust, but Kankuro could see they saved their heaviest looks of revulsion for their host himself. The man towered over the woman and her companion , both wrapped in nondescript plain clothing, much like the disguises Kankuro and Kiba had donned since the desert.

Eyes wide with glee, Kutta grinned like the cat who had got the cream. “And here he is,” he said as he brought his arms forward to gesture at him. “None other than Kankuro of the Sand, delivered right to our door! Although, I’m afraid, a little worse for wear,” Kutta informed, reaching over to run his hands over the shallow wound on Kankuro’s neck which was still bleeding sluggishly. He prodded the wound until fresh blood coated his fingers, before dragging his hand across Kankuro’s face and smearing it with red. “And his little Konoha doggy bitch.”

Anger brought Kankuro momentarily to his senses as he spat at Kutta, sending red flecked spittle across his abdomen. From where he was, kneeling and hands tied behind his back, it was all he could do to retaliate, but he found himself at the perfect height for the resulting backhand across his pounding head. Spots danced across Kankuro’s vision as he fought to remain upright, but a firm hand to the back of his neck forced his face to the ground and he found himself with a mouthful of the foul sand and in a crude bow with his forehead touching the ground.

“You should bow before our esteemed guest, Kankuro- _sama_ ,” Kutta leered at him from above. Kankuro was reminded of a similar way Kiba had said his name earlier. Although the mocking inflection was much more noticeable coming from the criminal. “Or I guess they don’t teach you manners in Suna, do they? What do they teach you about Episar, eh? That you didn’t recognise our _beloved_ Maharani.”

Oh no. Oh no no no.

When Kutta releases his grip on the back of his neck, Kankuro uses the last of his energy to rise back onto his knees and sits heavily on his haunches. The woman - the Maharani, his _betrothed_ \- has approached him and what disdain she has shown for the criminal leader beside them is nothing compared to the utter hatred she bears down onto Kankuro at that moment. She is older than him, but not hugely, maybe five years or so, old enough to remember the father so cruelly taken away from her by his own, and the town sworn to her by birthright crumble to the control of scum like Kutta. He sees it all, the anger, the pain, the resentment. And when she grabs his chin in his small rough hand, he isn’t surprised by her judgement.

“Pathetic,” she condemns. She has taken the measure of him, and found him wanting.

He doesn’t know how to reply, isn’t really sure what he might say. What _can_ he say?I agree? Sorry?

“Shut up, lady!”

Maybe…Not that.

Heads turn as Kiba spits the strap of leather from between his fanged teeth. “You don’t know anything about him!” Kiba’s accusations outrage the Maharani, it’s clear in the crease that appears between her brow, and how she mimics the Konoha-nin in bearing her own white teeth. She rounds in on Kiba, barely reaching past his head, but encompassing him all the same when she spits the last words Kankuro wanted Kiba to hear.

“I’ll speak to my fiancé however I well please, _dog_.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Kankuro slips closer and closer into sickness, Kiba extracts a surprising confession from him.

One breath. In and out.

That was the length of time it took for Kiba to realise the truth. Kankuro didn’t know what expression his face was showing, but without the mask of face paint, he was sure his panic was shining through. Kiba took that in, then something in own his face broke, closed over, and his head bowed down, as if to surrender to the validity of the Maharani’s statement.

It was sobering, this sense of betrayal. His mind cleared as he realised Kiba _knew_. Knew he had lied. Lied by omission, but still lied. Knew there was a reason Kankuro couldn’t return his advances, a perfectly valid reason, but he just didn’t tell him. A gaping void had opened in his chest, and Kankuro wondered where this feeling of wrongness had come from. It wasn’t like they were _dating_.

They were _nothing_. Nothing but a decade of professional reliability shared between them. Nothing but a few heated looks. Nothing but some flirty banter. Nothing but someone who made Kankuro blush hard enough he worried about the transparency of his make up. Nothing but someone who fit into his home, on his couch, like he belonged there. Nothing but someone who made his temper flare and his heart race. Nothing but someone he’d follow straight into danger, no matter what.

Nothing, but maybe… _something_.

That something flared to life behind his eyes. Kankuro stared fixedly at the slivers of Kiba’s face not hidden by his hair or scarf, wishing him to look up again, wanting to explain, somehow, why he hadn’t been frank in the first place.

But he kept his face firmly trained on the ground, as disobedient as always.

Kankuro felt the pain of the lie between them like a sharp crevasse, impossible to climb without shredding your fingers. The guilt of his betrayal rose sharp in the back of his mouth, and he couldn’t help uttering the other man’s name, hoping to wash it out. “ _Kiba_ ,” he beseeched, yearning for a glimpse of his face so he might begin to explain with sincere expression, not wanting an audience for the conversation, but getting one anyway. And again Kiba’s head remained trained on the dirt-packed ground, and Kankuro’s unanswered plea became his future wife’s thrill.

The grin on the Maharani’s face was righteous. “Interesting,” she said, considering. A short finger - clad with a single amethyst jewel - tapped her lips.

“I’ll take them both,” she informed their captor.

Kutta balked. “Both? That wasn’t part of our deal, princess.” The honorific sounded fake in his mouth, like a curse added to the end of the sentence. The guard who accompanied her - for that’s what Kankuro assumed him to be from his armed and stoic demeanor - bristled in response and in no uncertain terms stepped forward with a heavier grip on his large spear. It was a simple weapon, made of some dark wood Kankuro couldn’t identify immediately, but he could identify the colours of the bands wrapped around the point where the shaft met a sinfully sharp blade. Purple and yellow, like the flag that flew above the castle ruins.

“The _Maharani_ will be taking both prisoners,” he assured. The man’s voice was gruff, as if from disuse. “As is her right as leader of the city of Episar.”

“Sure she will,” replied Kutta and grabbed Kankuro but the neck. “But the price has doubled. An Inuzuka of Konoha would be very useful to me.” Nails dug discernibly into Kankuro’s jaw and pushed, until the only thing keeping him from falling back was Kutta’s punishing grip. His head, lolling about on his neck already, was turned sideways so he could see Kiba’s hunched posture once again. Kutta whispered into his ear, also turning to look at the other prisoner. “I could have had some fun with him,” he teased. His breath chilled the sweat pooling on Kankuro’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine. “Would you have liked to watch?”

Kiba looked up, incensed with rage. Heavy breaths heaved from his nose, making his nostrils flare.

At the same time, a hot roll of disgust heaved in Kankuro’s stomach at the thought of Kutta laying a hand on Kiba. Although weakened, he managed to rear his head back, and before Kutta could even blink, he slammed his forehead directly into his nose. A sick crunch resounded in the space and Kankuro was promptly dropped to the ground. His eyes immediately sought out Kiba’s and he found the other man lunging for him before the guard’s dark spear sliced before his eyes like a guillotine. Separated, Kiba could only look on as Kankuro received a swift kick to the stomach, another to his injured shoulder, and lastly a kick to the head, sending him into unconsciousness once again.

—

When he wakes, it is night, and his headache is hammering. A bitter breeze drifts over his bare arms and if he had the energy, he would have curled in on himself in an attempt to escape the chill. But he can’t muster the strength, despite waking up. Cheeks burning with the flush of fever, the rest of his body aches, and fine tremors glide across his limbs, as weak as the legs of a newborn camel taking it’s first steps. Taking a breath is a struggle, and it quivers in short gasps as he inhales and exhales. He opens his eyes to slits. A fine crust had sealed them together and even after blinking they remain gummy and lethargic, almost as dry as his mouth.

Smacking his lips together in distaste, he blinks when there is suddenly a foreign object between them and cool water flows into his mouth. Kankuro would be embarrassed about how quickly he moves to suck on the bottle, were he not so thirsty he’d drink a river dry. He manages a few greedy gulps before the bottle is removed, drawing an impatient whine from his throat.

“Slow down,” he hears. Then the bottle is returned. More water fills his mouth and after one gulp he turns his head to the side, spilling some down his cheek.

“Kiba?” He asks into the darkness. Dimly, he is aware of a source of heat at the crown of his head, but its hassle to focus in the dark and he soon gives up, settling for nuzzling his head against the warmth beneath him. “Cold.”

“You’re really not,” sighs Kiba from somewhere above his head. A hand smooths over his forehead and he feels moisture being swept up into his hairline, away from his brow. The hand is cool and he whines again as it glides away from his head. Kiba sighs and returns it to his forehead, soothing his temples. “You’re running a fever.”

Kankuro’s head is pounding, and he’s struggling to string his thoughts together. They elude him, and fly around in his brain like puppets on a string. There’s something important he needs to do, but right now all he can focus on is weight of his body and the warmth radiating from Kiba pressed against his head. For some reason it makes him smile, and he can feel his chapped lips crack as he falls asleep once more.

—

The next time he wakes it is daylight, and someone is slapping his cheek. His head still pounds where it rests on the ground but he just about manages to open his eyes. It’s too bright, and he shuts then again with a light groan. Another few taps on his cheek was all the warning he got before he was hauled upright bringing immense pain to his shoulder, and he grappled with the cry that desperately tried to escape his lips. But he kept them shut, stained white with strain, and allowed the cry to die in his throat. It was sobering. Heat and agony crawled hotly from the shoulder the dog had bitten. He wanted to to see his wound. It hurt too much, he had to assess the damage. A quick glance down confirmed his fears.

It was bad.

Over the bite wound lay a fold of cloth Kankuro recognised as his own shirt. It was soaked through entire with dark brown blood. And underneath that, the skin was red and swollen, causing pain to spread at even the slightest movement. But the worst sign was the numbness of the bite mark itself, and the slight unpleasant smell wafting from the wound.

“Fuck,” he cursed, dropping his head back on the wall behind him.

“Fuck, is right,” he heard. Kiba crouched in front of him, staring grimly at the wound.

“Hey,” said Kankuro, attempting to grin. “I’ll be better before I’m married.” It was a phrase he’d heard often as a child, from handlers and sitters alike. One that was said in a chiding manner to soothe a child who had fallen, who should have forgotten his pain straight away and would for sure have forgotten his pain in a decade or two. But immediately, Kiba’s face closed over and Kankuro realised it was the wrong thing to say. Kiba then reached over and unceremoniously yanked the makeshift bandage away from his wound. Kankuro couldn’t contain the cry that left his throat this time, although he felt like maybe he deserved it.

“I deserved that,” he keened as his eyes began to water. The pain once again dampened his delirium, but as it sharpened his mind, it weakened his body, and he could do nothing as Kiba emptied some water over the wound and attempted to brush away some of the yellow pus and cloudy fluid that had gathered along the jagged lacerations. Kankuro took in the man above him as he mopped up the mess at his shoulder. Kiba’s face was devoid of his usual confidence. His mouth was held in a terse white-lipped line and his wide eyes displayed his anger, it was like he was trying not to spew words in Kankuro’s face. He reached up and stilled the hand that was pressing slightly harder than was needed to his wound.

“Kiba, I’m sorry.”

Kiba’s hands stilled in their ministrations for a moment, before starting up again. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“I know,” Kankuro answers honestly. “But, I’m sorry all the same.”

Kiba doesn’t reply, and it’s an awkward thirty seconds. Kankuro’s eyelids begin to feel heavy.

“What exactly are you sorry for?” Kiba’s tone is demanding. Like he’s spent those moments thinking furiously about Kankuro’s apology and found it lacking. Which it was.

“I’m sorry for not telling you I had to get married.”

Another pause, this time shorter.

“Had to?”

“Well, it’s not exactly love, is it? It’s an arranged marriage.”

“Arranged?!” Kiba sits back on his haunches, his full attention on Kankuro now. “You don’t get a choice?!”

“Yeah. It’s so embarrassin’. But, I’m the son of the Kazekage and it was me or Gaara.”

“So you put yourself forward.”

“Hmmm,” Kankuro was growing tired again. “I don’t want to marry her at all. And at first, I didn’t want you to think I was pathetic, having to have an arranged marriage and all that.”

“I wouldn’t -I don’t- think that.”

“Sure,” said Kankuro, closing his eyes.

“Hey!” Kiba pressed against his wound once again, forcing Kankuro to jerk awake. But it was only temporary, as he was fading again. Fast. “What do you mean, ‘at first’?”

“Hmm? At first it was because I was embarrassed. Then it was because - you kept trying to, I dunno _woo_ me and I didn’t…I didn’t want you to stop. I didn’t want you to…not see me in that way anymore…or stop flirting with me. I mean, I’d _try_ to push you away, but I didn’t really want to.” Kiba was growing unfocused in front of him now; the infection raging through his body was coaxing him into sleep. But he could hear Kiba’s exasperated gasp all the same.

“You idio-“

“-Cos, y’know, I think you’re super hot…and I like you.”

He musters the strength to open his eyes. Kiba sits before him, mouth open in surprise and a blush spread across his face. Or it could be sunburn. Even so, Kankuro slaps on a pathetic smile.

“Wow, who’s flirting with who now, eh?” Chuckling to himself, he’s completely caught off guard when Kiba surges into his space and grabs his cheeks in both hands. Then, there are lips roughly pressing to his own.

It isn’t a good kiss. They’re both dehydrated, for one, and there isn’t a millimetre of their lips that isn’t chapped. Kankuro wouldn’t say that time had stopped or the world ceased turning, as he was still acutely aware of the pain radiating from his shoulder.But the insistence behind it, the build-up, the harsh press of Kiba’s mouth against his own tells him everything. That Kiba wanted this as much as he did. That he’s allowed have this - for a moment - he’s allowed to enjoy the hot slide of lips against his own, with no lies between them and the guilt a thing of the past. Kankuro finds some energy and shakily grabs Kiba’s waist while licking along his lower lip.Kiba groans in delight and returns the gesture, then slides his tongue across the rim of Kankuro’s mouth.

They pull away soon after with a wet smack, and Kiba rests his forehead on Kankuro’s. “You are really hot,” he says.

“Why th’nk you,” Kankuro replies, just as a wave of dizziness washes over him.

“No,” Kiba says with concern. “You’re like _really_ hot.” And Kankuro can really feel it now, the heat in his face and body where once he was chilly. Chest heaving as he begins to expel out hot pants, he feels beads of sweat peel down from his neck over his chest. The dizziness increases ten fold and his eyes slide shut. The last thing he remembers is Kiba’s cool hands gripping his cheeks tightly as he calls his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I had 50p for every time Kankuro passes out, I could buy myself a 99 ice cream cone. With a flake.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiba dwells on his journey.
> 
> Kiba's POV.

“We’re sending you to Suna.”

Kakashi sat with his head in his hand in a posture that spoke volumes as to how done he was with his job. Behind him, the sun was setting over the bustling streets of Konoha, and its haphazard rooftops were awash with a golden glow. There was a smell of meat in the air as Kiba had passed through, with the day vendors switching out for the night stalls. But he’d hurried past the sizzling food on his way to the Hokage’s tower. He hadn’t been expecting the summons, wasn’t expecting a mission for a while, and upon hearing his destination, he was more than a little confused.

“Suna?” Distant memories of the Chuunin Exams long ago brushed to the forefront of his thoughts. It’s been a while since he’d been to Suna.

“Yeah,” said Kakashi. His usual drawl was gone, replaced by something a little more somber. The mission scroll lay on the desk between them and Kakashi gazed at it as if it’s contents had captured his thoughts and encased them within. He sighed before speaking again. “They’ve uncovered some potentially nasty ninken smuggling ring there, along with a suspect Konoha headband in the mix.”

Kiba paled. “ _Ninken_ smuggling?! In Suna? That’s…“

“Surprising. I know.” If Kakashi was surprised, he didn’t give it away.“They need an expert. The Union wants you to leave tomorrow. The details are in the scroll.” 

“Who does the headband belong to?”

“That’s for you to find out. Kankuro is your team lead on the other side. Make sure to be professional.” Kankuro. Now there’s a name he hasn’t heard of in a while. Kiba wonders what the Suna nin is up to these days and had he changed much from their War days. Kiba would swear he was good-looking, and if he could just see what was under that heavy paint…

Kakashi levels him with a loaded look, as if sensing that his mind had drifted off to places it shouldn’t. So Kiba puts on his best serious face. He’d been having some insubordination issues as off late, one reason why he hadn’t expect a mission for a while. They must really need the help.

“Professional,” he repeats.

“Always,” said Kiba.

Kakashi snorted, skimming through another report.

“Good luck.”

Recognising his dismissal, Kiba left the office. Akamaru hadn’t accompanied him today, partly because Kiba couldn’t bear waking him from his afternoon nap in the Inuzuka yard earlier. But he would be awake now, and eager for the news of a mission. Kiba hastened his steps.

However, upon passing the Shinobi Union office, he spotted a familiar figure.

“Temari!” He flung the door open from where it lay ajar, and two heads - one blonde, one black - launched away from each other where they were previously bent close together over Shikamaru’s desk. “Whoah, lovebirds. The honeymoon’s _after_ the wedding.”

Temari folded her arms and pouted. “We weren’t doing-“

“Sure, sure.” Kiba’s hands were raised in surrender, then he brought them to cover his eyes.

“We’re not doing anything!”

“I couldn’t see your hands.” Temari lifted her folded arms from where they were clearly grasped in from of her. He ignored her.

“Kiba,” sighed Shikamaru. “Stop aggravating.” He was rearranging the papers on his desk; a task that looked pointedly like he was trying to look busy.

“I’m _just_ trying to protect my innocence,” said Kiba.

Shikamaru snorted, sounding exactly like Kakashi not five minutes before. “What innocence?”

Kiba gasped and put his hand on his chest, trying to look affronted. Although that was a bit of a fair judgement, he thought. It wasn’t like he’d scored half of Konoha or anything. Just that when he got drunk he got a bit frisky, and he’d maybe made out with a lot of their friend group at one stage or another, regardless of gender. And he wasn’t taking people home _every_ weekend. Just like…once a month…maybe twice a month….three times tops.

Temari wrinkled her nose at him anyway, as if his night time occurrences disgusted her monogamous sensibilities. “You better not get off with anyone at our wedding. Our families will be there.”

Kiba only grinned in reply, although he was surprised to feel a flash of hurt in his chest. He had been planning exactly that. What he so transparent? Did they expect him to embarrass them at their wedding? If that was the way they saw him, he saw no reason not to pass by on the opportunity to tease.

“Speaking of families, Temari,” said Kiba, making sure to adopt his sleaziest tone. “I hear I’ll be working _under_ your brother on my next mission.”

Temari levelled him with a warning glare. “Oh, don’t you da-“

“-We’ve worked well together before. But, do you think he can _give a dog a_ _bone_?”

Kiba registered the swollen blood vessel pulsing on Temari’s forehead moments too late, as he was swept from the room in a gust of wind. “That literally doesn’t make sense,” murmured Shikamaru. But it was in vain, as his fiancée was already bounding across the room following the cackling dog ninja.

“YOU STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MY LITTLE BROTHER, DOG BRAIN! OR I’LL SHOW YOU THE MEANING OF GOING HOME WITH YOUR TAIL BETWEEN YOUR LEGS!”

“Tem, that doesn’t make any sense either.”

“Shut up, Shikamaru! He gets what I mean!”

“Don’t worry, Temari! I’ll make sure your brother sees to the tail between my legs first!”

And Kiba was glad he had escaped quickly from the Tower, before the Suna shinobi could track him down and rip him a new one.

—

Kankuro didn’t just look good. He _smelled_ good. The woody aroma that surrounded him was nothing like the scent of the forest that Kiba was used to. Konoha was all pine and detritus and sunlight. Kankuro smelled like fallen timber, long since dried from the outdoors. Like sawdust and jujube and resin. Like he brought lifeless lumber alive again through the animation and craft of his puppets. The hint of sweat solidified his scent identity in Kiba’s nose - _dexteritystrivecraftsolitude_ \- and the glazed look in Kankuro’s eyes as they meet for the first time in years cemented his goals.

Even under all those black draping clothes, that cat-eared hood, the caked face paint and the put-upon indifference expression, Kiba could recognise one final scent; attraction.

He grinned.

“Hey puppet-dude, long time no see!”

—

The cave is cooler. Cooler than the baking heat of the kennels he was shown to. It tempers his anger somewhat, seeing Kankuro make an effort to house these abused ninken, and in his own home no less. They are place in the central area of the living room, which Kiba checks out the cavern.

It looks lived in. Kankuro’s home. The main room was almost rounded, low-ceilings and decorated with a few plants, a terrifying statue and sand-encrusted rugs. Stacks of different hued timber lined the wall near the door, obviously used for whatever puppet masters did to make their weapons. A busy bulls-eye target hung on the one part of the wall not covered will tapestry or fabric, presumably to keep the draft out of the room. A collection of comfortable-looking if not worn sofas and couches made up the centre point of the room, and Kiba was surprised to see some patchwork quilts thrown carelessly on the cushions, as if someone regularly took naps in that very spot. All together, it was cosy. It was _nice_.

And it _reeked_ of that woody scent he’s found so tantalising earlier, but had briefly blocked in the face of his anger.

Now it overwhelmed his nose, and if his sniffing was too loud, too impudent…he could blame it on needing to scent out the large amount of snakes that also inhabited this strange cosy cave.

—

Anxiety smells sickly sweet yet sharp at the same time, like fetid cheese smothered in dark honey. He catches it on his way back from meeting the Kazekage, just before he reaches Kankuro’s door and he throws it open in a panic, hastened by the scent. Kankuro sat on the floor, leaning up against the couch. Their pups - _their_ pups? -scurried all over him, happy to have a climbing frame, something to play with. But Kankuro looked less than happy as he clutched one small pup to his chest. His makeup was smudged in a comical smear of disarray but Kiba found it less that funny when the desert nin’s look of absolute anguish could be seen all the clearer for it.

“ _Kiba_ ,” pleaded Kankuro, as if all his worries would be soothed, all his questions would be answered and all his problems would be solved, just by Kiba arriving at the door. It brightened something in his chest but Kankuro sounded pained - _wounded_ \- so his heart lurched with his body as he pushed himself to the floor and frantically reached out to check for injuries. If Kankuro was _hurt_ …

“Kankuro, what happened?”

“Not me, the _puppies_. Burger. Jelly.” And he’s tell him the whole sorry tale.

When Kankuro washes off his faceprint later, the relief and calm expression on his face is more satisfying to Kiba than the handsome face revealed.

Something warm blooms in his chest.

—

The water of the oasis is refreshing, even if it is a bit lukewarm. Kiba is used to bathing like this in rivers, where ice cold water flows down from the mountains and rushes through him until there’s no room for any thoughts. This noiseless water stirs the heat inside him instead, and he casts furtive glances at Kankuro on the bank, where he is busy rustling about in his bags.

Kiba sniffs. He can smell the other man’s attraction, can see he isn’t reluctant to Kiba’s advances, his state of undress. Even now, Kankuro steadfastly avoids looking in his direction, as if abstaining from any temptation. Kiba would think it would be a noble cause, would be impressed by his constraint, if it didn’t come with a massive contradiction.

Kiba can smell the attraction, but he can also smell a lie.

Kankuro was hiding something.

—

Akamaru likes Kankuro. Kiba thinks it began somewhere back when Kankuro opened his home to the ninken. His best friend relaxed in that cave like it was his sunny porch back in Konoha. Maybe it was the cool reprieve from the desert, or maybe it was the company, but if Akamaru was comfortable, then Kiba was comfortable.

So, when Kiba chose to ignore Kankuro’s orders over rescuing the ninken, he could feel Akamaru’s disapproval like a weight on his shoulders. It exacerbated the wrongness inside him at his actions, but it paled at the feeling of sheer _right_ as he rescued the dogs.

When Kankuro was wounded, the right slid away like sand between his fingers.

—

He could escape. Easily. Chakra or no, Kiba could crack open that cage, find Akamaru and storm the compound to recover Kankuro.

It wouldn’t be hard at all.

But he holds back. Kankuro winces in pain in his sleep, unbeknownst to himself. His bare face looks impossibly open in those moments, betraying the strain he feels in his body. But Kiba can see it all, can see Kankuro struggling to fight back against his captors if push comes to shove. His miserable look echoes that of the ninken on the other side of the cage.

Like them, he is trapped. He can’t leave. Kankuro stirs through the bars and he curses his weakness for this man.

To stay is the wrong decision, and it wasn’t hard to make at all.

—

The lie hangs around them like a bad odour.

His _fiancé._

—

Kankuro’s lips taste metallic, like blood. He smells like blood too. In fact, his whole body has a wounded stench like the pain he must be feeling is oozing right out of his pores. Kiba can’t stand it.

It smells too much like death.

And with eyes that haven’t focused since the end of their kiss, and a fever burning hotter than an Uchiha’s katon, Kankuro remains lying restless on the floor of their small prison. Kiba had folded his wrapped shirt, which now lay beneath the other man’s head. But it was a small comfort. Their jail was rudimentary, and exposed to the elements. After a day of confinement, Kiba himself had begun suffering from the intense heat. His skin was scorched; red and stinging. Now as night approached, the temperature was dropping and soon their bodies would be racked with shivers. The night before, Kiba was almost glad for the heat radiating from Kankuro’s body as it warmed him enough to stave off the coldest temperatures.

They had been taken to the castle. Or rather, the ruins of the castle. Kankuro hadn’t been conscious for most of it, and no one had been by since. They were in desperate need of water, food and medical attention.

It was dark when Kiba scents him. He gives the air an inquisitive sniff.

Akamaru.

Somewhere to the north of here. In the hills. Waiting. And another scent, closer…

_CLANK!_

Whipping his head around, he watched as the Maharani herself appeared at the bars of their cell, lantern in hand.

“Hey, we need water,” he called out, hoarsely. “And he needs medical attention. Or he’ll die.”

“He is weak, unworthy. I have come to watch him die.”

Kiba’s fist gripped the shirt of the man below him.. “You can’t let him die.”

“And why not?” There is a fierceness in her gaze as she demands this, but the chocolate brown eyes betray a humanity. She is angry, but she isn’t cruel. Kiba can hear her heart beating wildly in her chest. She is fearful of this situation. “You don’t know what pain his family has caused mine. What his death would mean to our people.”

She wraps her hands around the bars and stares down at her fiancé’s prone figure. “How could I tell my people I saved his life?”

“How will explain to your people that Suna has waged war in revenge for an act _you_ committed?”

She releases the bars with a scoff of frustration. “They will understand. Everyone wants them dead. Those _Sand Siblings_.”

“Konoha doesn’t.”

She pauses then, and he notices movement in the shadows. Ah, so her guard is also here. The man barely carries a scent, and doesn’t make a sound. Kiba picks himself up off the dusty floor and walks to the bars. He is not a tall man, yet he towers over this woman. Even so, she commands a presence. Her features are soft and curvaceous, and yet strong in a way that captures your regard. She exudes a regal beauty. Hints of gold in her hair and on her wrists flatter the purple robes she wears, making her presence drip eminence. Even so, Kiba can see she falters in the face of his words. She hadn’t counted on Konoha getting involved.

“The Land of Fire wouldn’t cross borders to wage war. You are too peaceful these days.”

“Well, this guy here?” He points a thumb behind him at Kankuro. “His sister represents Wind on the Shinobi Union in Konoha, her soon-to-be husband is currently head representative of said Union, and his brother is the Kazekage.” She bares her teeth. “I’d think they’d be pretty hard pushed not to invade here. I mean, what have they got to lose? They get revenge, they squash down your crime-riddled citadel and your insubordination, and gain all that sweet sweet water to boot. And you have no shinobi to fight back. The cries of the towns folk are pretty quickly gonna change from ’That bastard doesn’t deserve to live.’ to ‘Why did you let him die?’”

The Maharani turns to him once again. Unshed tears pool in her eyes but she is righteous in anger when she shouts “You know NOTHING! My father is DEAD!” The guard springs forward from his perch against the wall. “Where was my revenge?! What did I get?! No apologies, no retribution, no mercy. Nothing!” She slaps her hands against her chest. “Episar has NOTHING!”

Silence permeates the room after her outburst. The tears waver, but are not shed. The guard looks as if he would make to reach a comforting hand out to the princess but, glancing at Kiba, he lowers his arm. Kiba swallows, his throat is so dry it hurts. The sorrow from this citadel, it’s leader, their story, affects him more than he would like to admit.

“…You save his life and he, and Sunagakure, will be indebted to you. They will be at _your_ mercy..”

She laughs wetly. “It’s too late for that.”

He gets on his knees. “ _I_ will be indebted to you.” Kiba bows his head.

“…You are no one.”

“Please.”

Kiba hears her small footsteps trail away, the soft thuds of the guard follow. He sinks lower, until his forehead touches the ground.

“ _Please_.”

There is no response but the clank of the door.

—

An hour later, a lantern approaches their cell. Kankuro is babbling in his sleep now, no concrete sentences, but he hears names like‘ _Father_ ’, ‘ _Karasu_ ’. Kiba looks up with hope at the be-speckled man who approached the cell. He carries a large bag at his side that smells like herbs.

“Her majesty has sent me to make sure the man is well enough to make his public apology.”

Kiba’s stomach drops at the thought, while at the same time elation fills his chest like a cage of birds has been opened inside him.

The man administers a needle solution into the meat of Kankuro’s arm. And as he groans, Kiba lets out a shaky sigh of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! Thing'll move past now soon :D Thank you as always for reading x


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankuro wakes to an uncomfortable situation.

There’s a twinging sting in his right arm, and his entire left side is numb.

This is what Kankuro grasps when he wakes for what feels like the first time in months. His mouth is as dry as bone, and makes a slight rasping sound as he pulls his tongue from the roof of his mouth. Struggling slightly, he tries to sit up, but he’s stopped by a heavy warmth pressed against him. Kiba lays entirely along his left side, sound asleep. Kankuro can feel the other man’s snores tickle against his collarbone, and his greasy hair pressed against his jaw. Despite their surroundings, still in a cell, Kiba looks peaceful. And Kankuro wonders if it’s anything to do with the heavy layer of bandages wrapped around his right shoulder.

The soft bristly feel of his scalp tells him its been about a week since they infiltrated Kutta’s base. His chakra is weak, and he wonders had the Maharani continued to use the same dampener on them as the smuggler had. The crime lord seemed to be well-versed in combatting shinobi, and obviously he liked to play with toxins. But Kankuro had toxins of his own, and the effects of the poisoned senbon he’d stabbed into Kutta’s leg should be start to take affect soon. The poison was a slow-acting one, but not very complex. Well, not to the untrained eye.

Kankuro smirked. He hoped Kutta found that antidote in time.

Kiba snuggled deeper into the crook of his neck. Rough stubble rasped against the small bandage there before scratching down against a particularly sensitive part of his neck. The sensation sent shivers across his shoulders, and when his entirely body tensed Kiba let out a little sniff before raising his head.

“Huh? Kanku’o?” Only one of his eyes was open, the other began blinking blearily, where it must have blurred itself from pressure against his neck. _Cute_ , he thought. Kiba mouth hung open in a daze, until he met Kankuro’s eyes. Then, quick as a flash, his entire face broke into a gleaming grin and suddenly there were lips urged harshly against his own. Kankuro could taste the other man’s relief. He wondered how close he came to not waking up at all. And as lovely as Kiba’s mouth feels against his right now, they have more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, getting the hell out of here.

“Kiba,” Kankuro says, rising up from the ground. Kiba groans appreciatively at the access to the inside of Kankuro’s mouth, but it turns to a whine of frustration as he is pushed away. Kankuro can’t resist the pout Kiba adopt and guides him back in for a lingering peck. “Later, okay?”

“Fine,” grumbles Kiba. He helps Kankuro sit up and scoot until his back his the lone wall to the cell. The rest of the enclosure is made up of iron bars. The full moon is low in the night sky. It’s ethereal glow fills the cell, illuminating his cellmate. Kiba looks worse for wear. Dark circles linger under his eyes and he shivers in the desert cold, as their prison is open to the elements. The lingering effects of the harsh sun is clear on Kiba’s skin. He can see various patches peeling along his shoulders, and others blistering with yellow welts.

“Why are you shirtless?”

Kiba looks down at his unclothed chest.“I needed to use something to clean your wound…It got infected anyway,” he says sullenly.

Kankuro tests his shoulder and realises he can move it without much pain. The twinging pain in his arm makes itself known again in the form of needle marks along the inside of his elbow.

“They’ve given me antibiotics? And painkillers?”

“And water,” says Kiba, reaching to bring a canteen to Kankuro’s mouth. He drinks it greedily, before handing it back to Kiba to also take a swig. They do this until the container is empty. As empty as Kankuro’s stomach. It rumbles audibly.

“They’ll be here with food soon. And more water.” He sits beside Kankuro against the wall, pressing himself flush against his side. Before, Kankuro would have lied if he said it felt nice, even if only to share body heat. Now, he raises his left arm for Kiba to snuggle underneath and rubs his arm and back, careful to not aggravate some of the more angry-looking blisters.

He was done with lying to himself.

“I thought the Maharani hated me. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t have just let me die. What is her angle here, do you think?”

Kiba stills beside him, before bringing his hand up to fiddle with the end of Kankuro bandage. “Well,” he says, “I may have, kinda, promised that you would publicly apologise to her in exchange for saving your life.”

Kankuro sighs. “Of course you did.” Kankuro thinks of the Council hearing about this. He was sent undercover to Episar to do some reconnaissance and possibly stealth extractions, and he’s ended up in the dungeon of the Maharani’s castle weaker than he’s been in years and about to publicly apologise without permission in the name of Sunagakure. “That’s just…fantastic.”

“I’m sorry,” mumbles Kiba. “I just..I couldn’t let you die.” He sits up to look Kankuro in the eye again and the moon catches his brown eyes until they shine like chestnuts in the gloom. They speak guilt to Kankuro, but not regret.

“It’s okay,” he assures.

Kiba cups his cheek, and he leans into it’s warmth.

“You’re worth a lot more than Suna’s pride, Kankuro.”

Kankuro frowns. Suna’s pride. Even hearing the phrase right now; it should mean more to him. It should be _important_ to him. The Council certainly thinks so. Suna was so entangled in every aspect of his being. His duty, his family, his _life_. He was born to serve the village. It’s what their father had dedicated his life to; Suna’s success and power. But looking where he is now, and seeing the damage caused by bringing this city to it’s knees…

To be worth more than that?

“No one’s ever told me that before,” he says. He thinks of his brother, his sister, and everything they are doing to make Sunagakure a village they can be proud of. That _everyone_ can be proud of.

How has he contributed to that? What has he done, in comparison, to bring honour to their home?

“It’s true, though,” implores Kiba.

“You’re right,” Kankuro says with conviction. “But that’s only because as long as cities like this suffer within our borders due to our actions, our pride is nothing but trash anyway. I’m going to fix this.” He extract himself from around Kiba before shakily rising to his feet. Grabbing the empty canteen, he stumbles to the bars and runs the container against them, creating an ungodly amount of noise. “Hey! I want to talk to the Maharani! Let me out!”

Kiba jumps up to stand by his side. “How is this going to fix things?!”

“It might not. But let’s start with that public apology.”

—

After the guards have been so rudely awakened by their nap just before dawn, they aren’t one bit careful as they drag Kankuro and Kiba to meet the Maharani a few hours after the sun rises. They’ve been fed and watered, just like Kiba said. And the care surprises Kankuro. Considering the Maharani’s reaction to him that he remembers, he can’t imagine her vehement hate towards Suna, and him, has decreased in the slightest.

One look at her face as he’s forced to kneel before her in the castle’s decaying throne room tells him her anger has not dulled at all. Her top lip curls back in distaste as she gestures to a small box near Kiba. “Put it on him,” she orders. Kiba’s hands are released and he opens the box warily. He only hesitants slightly at it’s contents, before pulling out a tube of purple paint, and a black piece of cloth.

“I don’t really know how he does it,” explains Kiba, as Kankuro realises he’s to be painted in his usual attire. He’s to be recognised, it seems.

“I don’t care,” she says. When she stands then, Kankuro can see that she is in more formal clothes than he’s seen her in yet. A deep green robe drapes off her body, skimming the ground as she walks and revealing delicate pink slippers underneath. Regality oozes from her as she walks to the throne room door, he ever-present guard shadowing behind her. “Bring them out in ten minutes. The townsfolk are gathering in the square.”

So his apology is to be immediate, and Kankuro realises he is going to have to do the awkward thing of explaining to Kiba how to do his intricate face paint. He turns to face the other man, and immediately has two purple-covered fingers slathering paint on his cheeks.

“What the hell?!” Kankuro scrunches up his face and pulls back, nearly toppling over onto the flagstoned floor when he forgets his shoulder still hurts. Kiba steadies him with his free hand before reaching up to grab his chin.

“Stay still. They’ll get messed up,” he warns. He catches his tongue on one of his fangs in concentration as he continues to smear paint down Kankuro’s cheeks.

“What are you doing? You don’t even know the pattern!”

“Of course I do,” says Kiba. He then looks into Kankuro’s eyes with a fond expression. “I’ve spent a lot of time studying your face, you know?”

Tongue-tied, Kankuro doesn’t speak again until Kiba swipes rough fingers across his nose and declares himself finished.

“You’ve never looked better,” he says, fitting the black hood over Kankuro’s head. “Perfection.”

“Let me see,” says Kankuro gruffly. The paint feels oily on his face and he realises it may be the longest he had gone without it. Kiba has definitely seen more of his bare face that his own family has in years. He wonders what it looks like, what has Kiba chosen as his most recognisable design.

“There isn’t a mirror,” says Kiba, looking around the area. “Hold on.” He stands and reaches for a bowl of water kept to the side and places it in front of Kankuro’s knees. It’s just enough for him to bend over and see himself in the reflection of the water.

“Really?” He asks dryly.

Kiba only beams back at him before leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek, no doubt smudging one of the two purple Inuzuka clan markings he has painted on his face. They match Kiba’s own, and paired with the more Kankuro-like purple line running across his nose and his lips, he finds that he blushes at this possessive design.

Kiba bends over and puts his mouth right to Kankuro’s ear. “Seeing you like this…I like it.” As he whispers his tongue darts out and brushes against the shell of Kankuro’s ear which, despite the circumstances, sends a shiver wracking through his body. “I’d like to see you in _only_ these markings sometime.”

Dammit. Kankuro feels his face heat up.

“We’re ready!” He straightens up quickly and calls for the guards, only because if he stays here any longer he is going to end up in a Very Bad position. No one wants him making a very demoralising and public apology with a raging boner.

Except maybe Kiba.

—

The people of Episar have turned out in their thousands. The town square, once home to stalls and shops was now clear of everything but a small wooden dias. Their small group gathered there on the platform. The Maharani, her guard, Kutta, his cronies and a pimply man with a large camera. His apology was to be recorded then, and his picture probably sent far across Wind Country as evidence.

The Council was going to just _love_ this.

Kankuro is thrown to his knees before the Maharani, who sits on a wooden throne in apparent superiority. He can see the way her righteousness shines in her widened eyes. This moment is very important to her.

She stands, her arms outstretched. A silence befalls the crowd. Kutta may control the city of Episar with this corruption, but one thing was clear, the Maharani still held the power and love of her people. The adoration for her is clear across the square.

“My people!” A cheer rose from the crowd. Kankuro spotted a familiar child push to the front between the legs of others and holler in delight. “The day has come for the atonement of the _great_ traitorous Sunagakure!” A hiss flittered amongst the people at the mention of the Hidden Village. “Too long have we waited in poverty while the shinobi profit from _our_ resources. Too long have we mourned our beloved Maharaja, my father. So I, Cinta of Episar, his daughter, demand reparations from the son of his killer! Kneel and offer amends, Kankuro of the Desert, son of the murderous Kazekage!” Boos roar from the crowd as they press forward as if to rip him limb from limb themselves given the chance. Only the Maharani’s guard hold them back. She raises her hand for silence once again. The photographer sets up his shot. Her guard moves also, but it’s only to drag Kiba from his side and up to stand beside the throne. The Maharani watches his struggle, before she sits and pulls a golden knife from her sleeve, pressing it to Kiba’s bare abdomen. Blood beads along the tip, before pooling over and dripping down to the waist of Kiba’s trousers. He struggles, and she presses harder.

“Make haste with the apology.”

Fury engulfs Kankuro’s mind, making his thoughts blank over with white-hot rage. How _dare_ she? He was going to apologise anyway. Why would she dare touch _his_ -him? More blood drips from the wound as she presses the knife in again in impatience. This time the trickle catches on an old scar just beneath it. One Kankuro now recognises as the kunai wound Kiba’d sustained back around ten years ago, when him, Gaara and Temari had come to the aide of their new Konoha allies. It had been a bad injury, but Kankuro doesn’t remember being too worried at the time.

Now though, even the reminder of it stung, and the fresh puncture in Kiba’s skin was sending his chest into agony, as if the Maharani’s golden knife had plunged within himself instead. Kiba didn’t let the pain show, but a bead of sweat rolled down between his eyes and a sharp tooth pressured the edge of his lip.

Kankuro bends and presses his forehead into the dusty wood of the platform. Squeezing his eyes shut, he wills his clenched jaw to loosen just enough to speak clearly. He lifts up from his bow and folds his ankles beneath him.

“Maharani, and the people of Episar, please accept my presence here today as a gesture of goodwill of behalf of the Hidden Village of the Sand. My father, Rasa, the Fourth Kazekage, was…not a good man, and not a good father. His actions were spurned by his greed, his hunger for power and money for this country. His reprehensible actions towards your people, amongst others, are ones we have left disregarded for too long. For that, and for my father’s inexcusable crimes, I apologise on behalf of the Fifth Kazekage and Sunagakure. We ask for no forgiveness, only that you allow us to compensate you for the crimes of the past.”

Kankuro dares not look away from the calculating look of the Maharani. The entire audience waits with baited breath for her response. She meets her guards eyes for a moment, and it’s loaded glance, more than Kankuro can discern before her gaze quickly shifts back. A sudden _click, click, click_ disrupts the silence and he spots the photographer shrewdly capturing his apology from the side. Seemingly happy with this, the Maharani stands once again.

“We in Episar are not the mightiest, the most feared, the most powerful of the land. But we are a people who know mercy. Let it be known that we have saved the life of Kankuro of the Sand, despite all the wrongdoings he has brought before us. We should remember, the sins of the father are not the sins of the son. And this man has promised reparations in gratitude! We accept Suna’s belated apology, brother of the Kazekage. But know our demand. We name independence from Wind Country as our compensation for Suna’s crimes.”

The crowd surges forward with a cacophony and hysteria that even the guards cannot hold back. There are shouts for independence, for the the greatness of the Maharani, and Kankuro is shocked at how much the thousands of people around them take to the idea. This is a city that has practised sovereignty in all but name, and the people call for it’s decree.

The masses encroach upon the central dias, and quickly their group is moved towards a corridor of guards as they move to the castle. The knife is removed from Kiba’s vulnerable stomach.

Kankuro allows himself to breath again.

—-

They are thrown back in the dungeons by the Maharani’s guard. Kiba sits gingerly on the ground, holding his side. But before Kankuro can attend to him, the guard pulls him up by the edge of his bandage. Kankuro winces involuntarily.

“Don’t think, for even a second, that I won’t crush you if you do anything but keep your promise of reparation to Cinta,” he snarls into Kankuro’s face. Up close, Kankuro can see the guard has green eyes, as rare as Gaara’s own, it draws his attention for a moment, until the guard shakes him hastily. “Got it?”

Kankuro is annoyed at that. “Shouldn’t that be the Maharani to you?”

The guard throws him against the bars.

“Nath, enough.” The voice comes from the antechamber beyond the dungeon. The guard, Nath, releases him and turns to meet the Maharani at the door. “Kankuro of the Desert knows what awaits him if he wants to leave this place.”

“I do,” says Kankuro. “And I’m willing to discuss terms.”

“Tomorrow. We will come for you.” And at that they leave the two behind. Kankuro waits until he cannot hear their footsteps echo in the corridor beyond before he turns to regard the small medical kit outside the cells on a table that has seen better days.

He reaches inside him, deep down, spiralling into his core, until he feels it. His chakra. It’s replenishing. They haven’t dosed them with the poison in two days. It’s enough.

He reaches his hand out through the bars, and easier that he thought, his chakra strings shoot from his fingertips and attach themselves to the kit. Within moments, it’s in his hands on their side of the bars. He opens it and crouches down beside Kiba.

“How bad is it?”

“Since when has your chakra been back?!”

“It doesn’t look deep. Is it deep?.”

“Hey!”

“Does it hurt?”

“Kankuro!” Kiba grabs his cheeks between his hands, forcing him to look at his face whereas before all he could do was stare at the bloody laceration beneath his hands. It leaks sluggishly onto his fingers. “Hey, look at me.”

“Your wound…”

Kiba watches him with concern as he runs his right hand reassuringly down the side of Kankuro’s face, smudging the oily paint. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

Kankuro lets out a shaky breath. “I…didn’t like it. That-when-I-I don’t like it. Please let me fix it.”

“…Okay,” says Kiba, nodding. He lets Kankuro clean the wound in silence for a minute or two. Suddenly though, his chest shakes and jars Kankuro’s hand against the wound. Kiba hisses in pain interspersed with chuckles.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Oh, just that, you know I was hurt way worse before,” Kiba says, pointing to the old scar just beneath his new one. “Way worse. I almost died. And you made me walk the whole way back to Konoha without so much as a piggyback or a bandaid! I’m just wondering, Kankuro, where was the concern?!” He full-on laughs then, clutching his side. Kankuro, although annoyed his handiwork his being messed up, can’t help but laugh along with him.

“I guess,” he explains. “That I didn’t care for you then, like I do now.” He watches Kiba fall silent and startled, before following his admission with a searing kiss. He breaks away and Kiba chases his lips. “I don’t want you hurt anymore. We need to get out of here.”

“Well, we have Akamaru on the outside.”

“Good, we can use him. I want to try diplomacy first, but just in case, we need to figure out a way of avoiding the chakra poison. I reckon we have two days, maybe three, before everything really goes to shit.”

“How so?” Kiba was still trying to seek Kankuro’s mouth. Kankuro ducked his head down to thread the needle he found in the kit, ready to stitch up Kiba’s wound.

“Well, that’ll be when those photos reach Suna like I’m guessing the Maharani wants. If I was willing to marry this woman to protect my brother, it’s not a patch on what I bet Gaara’s willing to do to protect me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with getting started on this chapter, my motivation is shot. But I like how it turned out! I hope you do too :D x


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaara receives some news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the rating change!

“It’s wonderful news, isn’t it, Gaara-sama?” Lee’s fists are clenching and unclenching with excitement.

Gaara places the scroll back on his desk, before steepling his hands under his chin.

It _is_ good news.

Great news, in fact. Despite the underlying panic Gaara can sense in his sister’s words, he can tell that she is happy. Surprised, but happy.

He is happy too, in his own way. He registers a lighter feeling in his chest and his facial muscles twitching with the need to smile when Temari describes her worry that she won’t fit into her wedding dress.

But his eyes switch to the missive from Episar. It’s an envelope, not a scroll. Which is strange to see these days. He almost exclusively received missives by messenger hawk these days.

Well, unless they were hand-delivered by Konoha shinobi, like Temari’s.

The wax seal breaks apart easily in his hands and he tips the contents out onto the desk. It’s photos, three of them.And it’s Kankuro, looking thinner and ill, prostrate in the dust before the Maharani of Episar. A crude list of demands accompanies the photos, and he barely glances at them before understanding dawns on him. He place this letter down too, beside Temari’s scroll.

It’s conflicting, this balance of jubilation and rage.

Crossing his arms and closing his eyes helps to settle the anger within.When he opens them again, Lee is still sitting earnestly in the uncomfortable wooden chair he’s pulled up in front of his desk. His eyes flicker to the bandages along Lee’s arm, as he remembers a time when the anger would have gotten to the better of him.

Taking a slow breath, he picks up his pen instead of his gourd.

He writes two quick messages, one to Konoha and one to Episar, and instructs the attendant outside his office to send them off on their fastest hawks. When he closes the door he spies the green misshapen pot on his shelf, and Rock Lee turned sideways in his chair, awaiting this return. He’s doing sit-ups off the side of it and is up to a count of fifty-six before he notices Gaara standing there watching. Lee beams at him before finishing four more moves and then sits up swiftly to face him with a toothy grin.

Gaara’s chest does a strange tug, then feels lighter, and he takes a breath to smooth it out. “I’m going to be an uncle,” he says, feeling the sentimentality surrounding the words. Lee beams back at him before opening his mouth, clearly about to launch into a great big spiel about Temari’s and Shikamaru’s Love and Youth.

But Gaara cuts him off. “I’m going to be an uncle,” he repeats, standing with a face of steely resolve. “But right now, I need to go to Episar.”

“Episar?” Lee asks, confusion smattering his round eyes.

“My brother is there,” he explains. “And I’m going to get him out. Because he has a responsibility now. He’s going to be an uncle too.“

—

In the three days since the public apology in the square, Kankuro was summoned to meet with the Maharani exactly twice. Kiba recalls the first meeting, the day after the spectacle, and how it had only lasted twenty minutes before Kankuro was flung back into their cell. And then both of them were promptly dosed with a cloud of chakra-eliminating gas.

“That went well, then?”

“Shut up,” growled Kankuro.

And that was it. It seemed Kankuro’s level of political tact wasn’t enough to soothe the Maharani’s demands. So they were back to square one. They healed further over the next two days, plotting escapes and playing twenty questions, until Kankuro was able to get up and walk about with only a twinge of pain and Kiba’s wound had scabbed over nicely. Kankuro meticulously checked it every day, as well as his own shoulder, and he reckoned if push came to shove, they would be able to fight. Kiba could feel the tension brimming under his skin, the aggressive need to leave this place, this confinement. They hatched a plan, surmising that the sandstone fortification was weak enough to their shinobi strength, with or without aide of chakra.

But today, on the third day, Kankuro had been summoned again. The Maharani had come herself, with her sullen guard Nath in tow. And by the sweat that clung to her upper lip, and his wide eyes, they were agitated. They escorted Kankuro out of the dungeons, leaving Kiba behind to listen and scent fervently at the air. Akamaru was out there, waiting and watching. Kankuro was higher up in the castle, in the opposite direction of the throne room. Even after a couple of weeks away from his workshop, he still smelled of sawdust and resin.

—

When Kankuro is summoned to what seems to be the Maharani’s personal office, he is not surprised to see a small scroll before her bearing his brother’s seal and spidery handwriting. He’s written only one sentence, and the Maharani looks down upon it now with utter dismay. Kankuro draws her eye, and he can see the confusion and fear across her expression, before she quickly tries to mask it.

“The Kazekage is coming,” she says, and he’d have to give her credit for the fact her voice doesn’t quiver as she speaks. Kankuro can tell by her stiff posture that she’s still trying to hold her shock back, and she raises a slightly shaking hand in front of her mouth.

“Why are you so surprised by that?” He’s genuinely curious. Not once has he seen his woman so out of sorts. The Maharani, Cinta, has always been composed, even in her anger. It’s unnerving. Kankuro, feeling confident in her troubles, takes a seat in front of her and crosses his legs. The guard starts forward, probably ready to smack Kankuro across the head, but she halts him with a trembling hand.

“I didn’t think he would come,” she admits. “Our intel on the Fifth Kazekage is that he is an uncaring monster. I assumed he would either meet or deny ourlist of demands. We usually deal straight with the Council of Suna anyway. I thought he’d hand it off to them so we could start negotiating.”

“You sent a list of demands? As well as the photos?!” He can only imagine Gaara sitting at his desk, receiving the envelope that contained photos of his kneeling form and what was probably a indecent list of demands. Kankuro puts his own face in his hands. They haven’t even bound his wrists. And their information about Gaara is severely outdated.

There’s something niggling him about this whole operation. He thinks on the Maharani and her guard, the only people in this room trying to figure out the problem of the Kazekage of their country coming to personally fetch his brother. Where were her advisors? Elders? Anyone here to guide them through this? There was no one. This town was underdeveloped, unarmed and under no real authority apart from his woman across from him and a crime lord with a penchant for ninken and poison. “Why would you do that? Demands? You have nothing here! No leverage, apart from me and some water pipes Suna already controls. I’m a _shinobi_ , my death is accepted as part of my job description. Do you really think they’ll give you everything to get me out of here when my brother can just waltz in here and take me without a single casualty?!”

The Maharani looks back at him, a muddled look in her eyes. “Casualties?”

All of a sudden, he comes to a realisation. “You guys have _no idea_ what you’re doing, do you?”

The Maharani bristles, clearly ready to launch into yet another prideful and pretentious song-and-dance about her decaying town, but before Kankuro can interject, the guard behind him sweeps into his vision.

“Not really,” he says, grimly.

“Nath!” The Maharani’s mouth drops open in outrage. “How dar-“

“Cinta!” He injects her. And she just grits her teeth, telling Kankuro he’s done it many times before. “Look at this place! The castle is crumbling, the people are hungry, and that dog Kutta bleeds your town dry! Starting a war with Suna over a fight between fathers is not going to solve these issues! It’s going to make them _worse_.”

Her nostrils flare. But she doesn’t react to the disrespect as a queen ought to. Instead she rises to her feet and points a finger right in Nath’s face. “You _said_ you wouldn’t say anything. That you’d let _me_ do the talking. I _know_ what’s best for my people.”

“And yet you don’t _know_ how to make that happen!”

It’s at this point that Kankuro realises they _have_ had this argument before, possibly dozens of times with the ease in which they slip into their debate, like an old man into worn slippers. After a few moments Kankuro begins to feel awkward, like he’s intruding on a lover’s quarrel. There is less than two inches between the two now, as they jab accusations and fingers into each other’s faces. Cinta’s brown eyes shine with passion. When he dodges a particularly violent poke, she accidentally tips over, but he steadies her with a firm grasp around her upper arms. They continue arguing, but he doesn’t let go. Instead his tone turns placating, like the fire of the squabble has died out, and he begins running his hands up and down her arms in a soothing gesture.

…Huh.

“Are you guys like…a _thing_?” They both freeze at Kankuro’s question. The Maharani’s hair smacks Nath’s chest with the force in with she snaps her head away. She takes a step back, while Nath chin dips down and he turns away in the opposite direction. Before he hides his face, Kankuro can see him grimace as if the question itself is a wound that never heals.

“Of-off course not,” she says with a tremor she managed to hide when she thought Gaara was coming to rip her limb from limb. “He’s…”

“…A commoner,” Nath finishes for her. His voice is tight and stained, like the words physically hurt him to leave his lips.

“Nath, _no_.” She goes to him, but he waves her off with a raised hand.

“It’s..I shouldn’t have shown you disrespect, your highness,” he apologises with a quick bow. Nath backs out of the door quickly, opening it with a sharp tug. “I’ll leave you to speak with your _betrothed_.” The final sentence is accusatory, said like the final word in an age-old argument. The door clicks shut with the succinctness of a full stop at the end of the argument.

The items on the walls have suddenly become very interesting to Kankuro as he tries to look away from the Maharani. She’s standing stock still by the door with suspiciously shiny eyes. It’s when he begins inspecting a ratty purple and yellow flag on the wall, that he hears the small sniffle.

He coughs, and uncrosses his legs, wishing to be anywhere else right now. Feeling sorry for this woman shouldn’t even be on the table. She’d hurt Kiba, she’s threatened Gaara…hell, she’s hurt him too! Even so, his mind searches for something to say, _anything_ to fill the silence that is rapidly being overcome by short gasps and dampened sobs. Maybe she’s sad about the marriage? That she had to be torn from her commoner lover?

“I just want to make it clear,” he says, turning in his seat to face her. She’s wiping away a swift tear that reappears almost immediately on her cheek. He swallows. “Th-There’s no way I would ever marry you.”

The words don’t come out right. He knows that straight away. In fact, he’d mean to say something reassuring like “You don’t need to marry me.” Or a short “We can cancel the wedding.” But somewhere between his brain and his mouth, the reassurance turn perfunctory, and he cringes at his words.

Kankuro can feel his face curling into a wince, which he knows with his face paint on would have looked intimidating. But with a bare face like he has now, it must make him look decidedly normal. Because the Maharani, instead of becoming infuriated or spiteful, _laughs_. Tears still leak from the her eyes but from the corners now, instead of the centre. It almost looks like she was never crying from sadness at all. If someone walked in, they’d assume Kankuro had told a rather funny anecdote.

She moves to sit behind her desk and her hand rests on the small scroll she’d received from his brother. “I didn’t want to marry you either,” she says.

What? No way,” Kankuro deadpans. “I _never_ got that impression. Frankly this rejection is shocking.”

“ _You_ just rejected _me_!” Abruptly the two of them burst into snickers, until the last tears are wiped from her eyes. Kankuro wonders why he is doing this. He eyes the flag on the wall, and a small picture of what is certainly the Maharani as a child, sat on the should of a bald man with the same striking brown eyes and his daughter. They’re standing in the town square, the same one Kankuro gave his apology in a few days before, and it’s draped in rich purple and gold flags and banners with strong market stalls. The people surrounding them wear finer clothes than the rags of today. They look well-fed, and happy. It looks prosperous.

The Maharani looks happy.

“You’re doing this out of duty, aren’t you?” Kankuro grasps now her desperation; her need to bring her city back to it’s former glory. For her people, for her father, for herself. The need to prove herself and provide vengeance must be a weight on her shoulder so heavy he wonders how she can even raise her head. He can’t say he has that burden, he’d rather reprieve his father than avenge him, but he does understand duty.

“Well,” she admits. “I wasn’t going to marry you out of love, was I?”

“Me neither. I was only marrying you because if I didn’t, my brother would be forced to by that meddling council. And he’s my little brother. I want him to live a happy life, considering our childhood. You weren’t the only one to feel the wrath of the Fourth Kazekage, you know.” He levels her with a knowing glance, trying to instil in her his hate for his late father’s actions without words. He didn’t want to talk about it right now, rarely wanted to talk about it ever. She nodded understandingly, after a moment of consideration.

“So we are more alike that I thought,” she says. “Although I’m surprised to see you so protective of your younger brother. Our intel told us he was bloodthirsty, and feared by all, including his family. When the demands for water didn’t change after the death of the Fourth Kazekage, we assumed him to be the same as his father. So we thought to employ more…diplomatic methods.”

“Diplomatic? So buying me from a crime lord that runs your town, refusing to give me medical treatment until I almost died, making me publicly apologise for my father’s crimes while threatening the man I l- _”_ He chokes, coughs, then continues with a blush. “-like. _That_ was the diplomatic method?”

“…Nath disagreed too.”

“Because he’s right!” Kankuro raises both his hands in exasperation. “This was poorly done. My brother is very understanding, he would have negotiated had he known more about the situation. The Council has been keeping us in the dark, telling him to stay out of it, that there was no chance of forgiveness. Would you be willing to work with us on this?”

Confusion clouds the Maharani’s face. “This?”

“Your independence?” Kankuro explains. “If we come up with a solid enough plan, and pitch it straight to Gaara, forget that Council, he can appeal directly to the Daimyo _for_ you. With Gaara’s backing, and a good enough deal for water in Suna, it just might work.”

“But…there’s still a problem,” The Maharani looks hesitant. She leans forward onto her elbows and the papers on her desk fold awkwardly under her. “In the vacuum of power my father left, Kutta stepped it to run the town. I was still a child and was helpless to stop it. The town can’t prosper as long as he _and_ Suna take our resources. We’ll be bled dry with nothing left for the people. Much like we are now. He’s so influential, and holds just as much if not more sway than me in this town. How can I get rid of him?”

Kankuro realises that she has no idea the protective potential of having the Hidden Village of Sunagakure on her side. “You said my brother is coming?”

“Yes, I received the letter today.”

“He’ll be here tomorrow then,” says Kankuro, confident in his brother’s abilities.

“Won’t he be angry?” The fear is back in her eyes. She’s clearly still thinking of the intel on murderous Gaara from long ago.

“He will,” informs Kankuro. “But he won’t kill anyone, I don’t think. However, I think it would go a long way to maybe let his brother and the Konoha shinobi out of that rotten cell, and we start coming up with a plan to earn Episar it’s independence. Don’t you think?”

For the first time ever, Kankuro spies the Maharani’s face quiver into something of a smile. Her body relaxes upon the next exhale, and she drops her face to collect herself slightly. When she looks up again, her posture is rigid once again and the pride is back in her expression. She looks ready to take on Kutta himself.

“I think we can manage that,”she says. And Kankuro settles down into his chair, ready for the long day of diplomacy ahead.

Sitting in on all Gaara’s Kazekage meetings might have just paid off.

—

Kankuro’s gone for _hours_.

Kiba’s counts and recounts the flagstones on the floor and the bricks in the wall until his eyes go square with strain. It’s getting dark before the dungeon door opens again. It was Nath, with his trademark stormy expression and gruff demeanour, who somehow seems in an even worse mood than usual.

“Come with me,” he orders, holding the barred door ajar.

“Where?” Kiba holds his ground and crosses his arms with suspicion. The guard doesn’t answer, but instead turns and walks back out the door, leaving it open in a clear demand for Kiba to follow him.

He’s brought to a small washroom and, without instruction, given clean clothes and some toiletries. The door closes behind him with a slam. Kiba figures he’s to clean himself up, and considering the amount of dust that clings to his greasy hair, he’s must also smell an awful fright. He’s never really minded body smells, it’s something he’s used to, with his profession. But even he can admit now, the bath of steaming water he spots behind a short screen looks heavenly. He sinks into it with a groan. The water is hot enough to sting the still sensitive sunburn along his shoulders, and it draws his eyes to some brown splotches. He notices now the hundreds of freckles that have appeared across his torso and shoulders, and dreads to see how speckled his face must look. He tries to still himself in the water to catch a look but the room is so dimly lit he can only see a smudged outline of his reflection.

A sharp knock tells him that this isn’t to be a relaxing bath, so he quickly scrubs the desert grime from his body until his skin is pink and squeaking. Some of the freckles have revealed themselves to be merely dirt and they melt into the water, which has quickly turned a murky brown.

“Yuck,” he says, pulling himself from the tub. He dries himself quickly and pulls on the purple shirt and trousers they have given him to wear. He doesn’t know what to do with his old clothes, but considering the state they are in, he just throws them into a small waste bin to the side of the toilet. Kankuro had given them to him, but he’s sure he won’t miss them. His headband he keeps, tying it back round his forehead. A razor lies on the sink with some foam, and he picks it up, more than ready to get rid of the scruff along his jaw.

Once he’s finished all his ablutions, he goes back out the way he came and Nath, who had been leaning on the opposite wall, pushes off and leads him further down the hall. At night the temperature in the castle drops, and a chill sneaks through the dimly lit halls, teasing at Kiba’s still wet hair. They reach a door at the top of some stone steps.

The guard knocks twice, before walking away. “Go inside,” he calls back, just as the door is jerked open by none other than Kankuro, also washed and in fresh clothes. Kankuro tugs him into a warm and comfortable room. It’s not decorated, but it has the essentials; a fireplace, washbasin, table, two chairs and two small cots.

It seems they’ve been upgraded.

“The washroom is just here. “ Nath points to a small door a few paces down from their room, before hurrying down the steps and out of sight without so much as a nod goodbye.

“Well, he’s lost his sunshine,” comments Kiba, but he takes in the lack of surprise in Kankuro’s face at his arrival in the new room. He frowns. “What’s going on?”

Annoyingly, Kankuro forgoes explanation. Instead, he pulls him into a rough hug and just holds him. If he feels anything like Kankuro, he’s glad to have some time to themselves. It’s been a week since their whispered confession and they’ve spent the time since healing and recovering wheel trying to simultaneously work out a plan of escape. Kankuro’s relief it evident and his face is pushed into the crook of Kiba’s neck. He feels the hard press of lips and then, the flat clench of teeth against the sensitive skin there.

He shudders.

Maybe it was wolfish trait of his clan, but he’d often felt the need to cover his neck, seeing it as a the weakest point of his body. Hoods, and collars and sweatshirts all rose high enough that his nape felt covered and protected. But the past few weeks, it’s been bare, and even the simple act of Kankuro speaking now, feeling the gentle shift of his rough lips against the delicate skin there, sends more shivers down his spine. And from the way Kankuro’s arms tighten their hold around his waist, he’s felt them too.

“I think…I’ve sorted it,” he mumbles into Kiba’s neck. “Probably. Maybe.”

“Sorted it? How?” Kiba tries to pull back, but Kankuro is reluctant to release him out of his firm hold.

“Diplomatically…like I wanted. I think…it’s going to be okay.” Kankuro’s body gradually gets heavier and heavier, until most of his weight is leaning on Kiba’s shoulder. It probably exhaustion, but Kiba senses that same relief in his posture.

“Whoah, buddy. You must be tired.” All he gets back is a non-committal hum, so he begins walking backwards towards the cots. He smiles when he sees they’ve been pushed together to make one larger bed. They flop down, Kankuro lying on top of Kiba, his face still pressed into his neck. One hand rises from around Kiba’s waist to slide into his hair, while simultaneously cupping his cheek. It’s nice. Kiba likes Kankuro’s hands. They are softer than he thought, like the abrasive sand of the desert has scraped away all the rough skin. Lightly touching the back of Kankuro’s scarred knuckles causes the other man to press his fingertips into Kiba’s temples, and he shudders again but this time let’s out a small sigh too. He likes this. Kankuro’s heavy weight crushing him into the mattress. The tender way soft fingertips play with his damp hair. The fact that he finally has Kankuro all to himself after weeks of _wanting_.

So Kiba shifts, slotting his knee high between Kankuro’s legs, and bringing his mouth close to Kankuro’s reddening ear. “I see you pushed the beds together,” he whispers. “What exactly did you have in mind, eh?”

Kiba feels Kankuro’s face blush from the heat that blooms at his neck. The hand carding through his hair gives a quick chastising tug, and Kiba, in a teasing mood, lets out a low moan of appreciation. Kankuro shoots up onto his elbow and hold himself above Kiba, who bites him lip and looks up at him, brazenly raising his hands above his head. Kankuro’s face is scarlet. Even with the dim light in the room, he can see the flush high on his cheeks.Used to seeing him without the makeup now, his eyes flick to Kankuro’s smooth cheeks, something he’d always wanted to reach out and touch.

So he does.

His thumb trails over the unblemished skin. It’s soft and smooth, just like he’d anticipated. Whereas Kiba’s own are dusted with a smattering of brown freckles and his clan tattoos, Kankuro’s are pale and unmarked; a testament to years of sun protection. Kankuro’s eyes drift to watch the path he makes, across his cheekbone, then up to track his thin brow. Kiba pulls his bottom lip into his mouth. A fang peeks out, threatening to prick his soft flesh. 

Suddenly Kankuro lurches down, capturing Kiba’s fang with his tongue. He presses his tongue against it, teasing the skin, until he segues into a heated swipe across Kiba’s bottom lip, soothing the area the fang had worried moments before. Kiba takes the moment to wrap his other hand under Kankuro’s armpit, pulling him bodily down on top of him and into the open spread of Kiba’s legs. 

Kankuro heaves out a breath as Kiba cries out at the contact.

“Am I heavy?” Kankuro huffs. Kiba only scoffs in reply.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to have you on top of me?” Kiba squeezes Kankuro’s sides with his thighs, enjoying the thickness he feels there. A sudden desire to _see_ has him pushing him back up and chases his hands up Kankuro’s shirt. The black top bunches under his hands as his fingertips follow strong muscles formed through long hours training in the desert sun. 

Kankuro drops down once more, and this time they are pressed flush together. Kiba curses, before locking his ankles behind Kankuro and rocking himself upwards until they are both hissing at the pressure. His fangs really do threaten to puncture his soft lip then, as Kankuro leans back and lifts his shirt forward over his head. Kiba quickly relinquishes himself of his own shirt and he doesn’t even have it fully off his arm before Kankuro is back over him grinding his hips down.

Hard. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” groans Kankuro, and Kiba feels the growl reverberate through his chest. 

“God, that’s so hot,” he whines. Kankuro has increased his rocking, this time bringing a hand between them to grip Kiba through the front of his trousers. Kiba thrusts into his hand, throwing his head back. And Kankuro used the opportunity to latch his lips onto the tight tendon on his neck, sucking against it like a man dying of thirst. Kiba’s going to have a mark there tomorrow, and some primal part of him tells him he needs to mark Kankuro back, _now_. So he does, detaching the man above him, and slotting his lips right underneath Kankuro’s ear. 

Kiba feels Kankuro moan, hears the noise rattle in his head like it was his own need making the sound. Strong arms caress his sides until, abruptly, he jolts when both his nipples are simultaneously swiped with searching thumbs. One thumb stays, teasing, but the other travels back down between them, unbuttoning both of their trousers. He shows his appreciation by wrapping one arm tight around Kankuro’s neck and licking a wet stripe across his lips until the other man succeeds in capturing them. His other hand snakes down Kankuro’s back, until he closes his hand over the swell of his ass, using his strength to pull their hips even closer together, just as Kankuro releases them both from their trousers. 

Kiba kisses him again, rocking impatiently. Kankuro’s mouth is hot inside, and he tastes sweet. The taut muscle of Kankuro’s ass flexes in his hand with each of Kankuro’s sharp thrusts into his hip. He could finish like this, wants to finish like this; hot and rough. 

But Kankuro has other ideas. He leaves Kiba’s mouth with a wet smack and kisses his jaw, then his throat, and seems to follow a trail of freckles down his chest, until he’s sucking a hard kiss onto the flat of his stomach. Kiba lets out a loud gasp, and when his back arches Kankuro takes the opportunity to firmly grip Kiba’s waist and slide him to the edge of the bed until his legs trail off the side and Kankuro is kneeling between them. 

Kiba’s legs are quivering as he’s so turned on and unable to hold in his excitement. Kankuro runs a hand up his shaking calf admiringly. “Relax,” he says with a smirk. “I’m going to look after you.” Then he sinks his head into Kiba’s lap.

If his claws shred the mattress, well, it’s better than Kankuro’s scalp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a larger chapter that most! Hope you guys enjoy. And thanks once again to everyone who commented/bookmarked/subscribed/kudosed. It really means a lot!
> 
> I'm hoping to finish this series before the end of July, but I'm notorious at getting distracted. Even so, we're really in the endgame now!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaara arrives in Episar.

Decay trickles down over Episar like the rain that hits Wind Country in December. Its spread itself across the small valley in a shambling coil; all battered old buildings, and flimsy new housing. Noble architecture peeks out occasionally from between flat roofs and hoisted dwellings, showing Gaara a glimpse of what the town once was. But what stands collectively in front of him now is a town well past the throes of decline.

And it unnerves him, that this type of poverty exists in his borders. He denounces his father for his work here. And for his own wilful ignorance. The town is damning evidence of the Kazekage’s failures. Failures that have led to his brother’s capture.

The yellowed castle imposes stark in the distance. It’s where the letter had stated Kankuro was being held. With a whisper of sand, he disappears from the rocky outcropping overlooking the town and materialises right in the middle of the small castle courtyard, to the surprise of a number of guards in ineffective purple and gold armour. One woman gets a hold of herself enough to point the tip of her spear at him, but it’s yanked out of her hands by and arm of sand before she can think to do anything with it. The rest of the guards eye him warily then, as he holds the spear in a spiralling circle above their heads. Then there is nothing but silence for long stretching moment.

“I’m here for my brother,” Gaara announces, using his ‘serious’ voice. The one that Kankuro told him would entice nightmares in even the bravest of men. “And the Maharani,” he adds. The guards tense, except for one, who turns and runs in the direction of a stone archway. Sand particles continue to float idly in the air, and if he allows some of the grains to brush against the exposed skin of the remaining guards, some would say it was accidental. But he wouldn’t say that. It wasn’t an accident.

For the first time in years, Gaara wants other people to _fear_. He lets the menace drip off of him. Watches as the guards panic silently, like slimy globules had flooded over to them and stuck their feet to the floor. He feels his brow furrow further, but still his eyes open wide. Slowly, he feels a familiar dangerous emotion rise up inside him.

“Gaara!”

The call came from above, and his head flicks upwards to spy a man leaning over the side of an upper story balcony. Even with the shorn head, bare face and sallow complexion, Gaara recognises his brother enough to immediately manifest at his side. The guards in the courtyard below scatter as Gaara turns to Kankuro. He’s neatly dressed in pale robes, a look so unnatural with his image of his brother that it causes Gaara to pause for a second while he takes in the rest of him. He looks paler, and thinner. But he doesn’t look as ill as he had in the photographs the Maharani had sent. A bandage peeks out from his neckline, and his eyes zero in on the offending cloth. He feels his lip curl back from his teeth, and a sharp ache tells him he is clenching his jaw too hard.

“Gaara,” repeats Kankuro, softer this time. “You’ve gone all ‘murder aura’. Cut that shit out.” He waves a hand, gesturing at Gaara’s face. “There’s no need to go ape over any of this, and I don’t need protecting. I’m _fine_.” He shrugs his injured shoulder. “And the Maharani didn’t do this neither.”

Gaara’s eye tighten unwillingly. “Then who did?”

Kankuro slaps his hands on his shoulders. “That’s what we want your help with.”

Gaara tilts his head to the side, confused who the ‘we’ was in this equation. But Kankuro only turns and walks down the corridor adjacent to the balcony. Inexplicably, the Inuzuka man’s ninken, Akamaru, trots at his hip. Gaara din’t know how he didn’t notice the massive dog before now. He must have been so focused on his brother.

“Come,” calls Kankuro, walking backwards. “I’ll explain at the meeting.”

He wings around and leads him to a small office-type chamber. Inside he finds a woman, who he recognises from the photographs as the Maharani. She is sat behind a wooden desk and meets his eyes with more poise than a woman who’d threatened Gaara of the Desert’s only brother should have. Kankuro sits in one of the two chairs in front of her before turning expectantly to him and gesturing at the other chair. Gaara ignores him and folds him arms.

“Before we discuss whatever terms you seem to have prepared, I want to make one thing clear. No matter what deal, accord or arrangement we decide upon between Suna and Episar, you are no longer marrying my brother.”

The Maharani has the decency of looking chastised before responding. “I don’t wish to marry your brother.”

“You are are not worthy enough,” finishes Gaara, with a wide stare that he can tell by Kankuro’s face reveals too much of the whites of his eyes; yet another thing his brother warned him against doing in diplomatic situations.

But in fairness, Gaara isn’t feeling very diplomatic right now.

“Gaara, that’s completely off the table already. Sit down. We have a lot to explain. Amazingly, the Maharani isn’t the bad guy here, like I said.” Without breaking eye contact with her or releasing his crossed arms, Gaara trails over to the seat and sits.

“Explain then.” He switches his attention to his brother, finding that the more he can see him complaining and breathing and living in front of him, the more of the tension seeps out of his bones.

So Kankuro tells him the whole story, about the stakeout and the kennels and how they came to be in the care of the Maharani. When Gaara questions why his brother chose to infiltrate when they clearly should have waited, Kankuro shrugged and said he’d made a mistake in the decision, only to be caught unawares by the chakra-eating poison. Gaara nods along, watching his brother and only switching to look at the Maharani during the part about his apology. She holds it well, but it’s clear she’s reaching her limit for how uncomfortable this is making her.

“So you decided to send the photos to me. Obviously hoping I would pass them off to the Council for further negotiation with the new leverage. Only you forget the Council was going to sell one of us off for more water supplies in Suna, so really they wouldn’t have cared, although outwardly they’d need to appear like they do. It was a mistake to send them to me. A foolish mistake.”

The Maharani opens her mouth to comment. But Gaara cuts her off once again. “I’d also like to make it clear that complete independence from Wind Country is impossible. Not only would the Daimyo never agree to it, if you persist it would only lead to a war which, looking at this city, would lead to your loss and further subjugation.”

She closes her mouth with a click. “I get it,” she says patiently after a pause, and to Gaara’s surprise. “Kankuro has already explained.”From the letter sent with the photographs, he was sure this wasn’t going to be an easy admittance for the Maharani, that she wouldn’t gain complete independence. The letter had been very all or nothing, and that Kankuro was able to talk her down in just a few short days…Well, he looks at his brother in admiration now. That was no simple task. “But, he does have an idea that just might work in _both_ our favours.”

Beside him, Akamaru shifts into a more comfortable position, resting his head on his overlapped paws. It’s like he’s heard this conversation a dozen times already and is settling down for the long haul.

Kankuro leans forward then with a gleam in his eye.“What do you know about establishing sovereign city-states?”

—

“So that’s it. That’s the whole plan. And to start off, what we need you to do is bring down Kutta’s network. Ideally in one clean hit.”

Gaara just watches his brother. If he’d been more prone to expressions, he guesses his mouth would be hanging open in shock. Kankuro, his diplomacy-allergic brother, who had perfected sleeping with his eyes open so as to check out of Gaara’s boring political discussion. That brother, has just negotiated what might be the greatest deal in Suna history. What happened in the last few weeks? Gone is the boredom. Gone is the apathy. And gone is the complacence.

And in its place is this… _passion_. Right now, he looks exactly as he does when explaining a new puppet design, or upon returning from a particularly entertaining mission.

When Gaara had stormed across the desert yesterday, anticipating all sorts of situations he could have found Kankuro in, leading a revolution for the very city he’d almost died in was not one of them. And even on that, Kankuro has attempted to qualm him. He’d explained that his humiliation was needed, that Suna’s pride wasn’t worth any of this in the fight to end the tyranny and poverty in this city. It was needed for the townspeople to be on the side of the Maharani for the next stage of her takeover. Kankuro cajoled him like this was their plan all along. Assures him it actually _was_ their plan all along. Turns out, that Inuzuka Kiba was the mastermind behind the public apology.

Gaara looks down on the hound at their feet. Akamaru’s ears had flicked forward at the sound of his master’s name. “And where is Inuzuka Kiba right now?”

“Setting up,” says Kankuro. “We attack tonight.”

—

Kankuro meets Kiba in the same spot they’d used to to stake out Kutta’s hideout all those weeks ago. Akamaru pads ahead of him and receives a grateful pat to the head from his master. Likewise, Kankuro finds a hand wrapped tight around his shoulder as he settles down next to the other man. A weighty sense of deja vu hits him then, but it comes with a strange disconnect. It feels like a similar situation but also so different from before. Maybe it’s his new resolve to help Episar, or his cave full of his new canine friends waiting for him at home, and…he side-eyes Kiba, who catches him and grins. Kankuro grins back without looking at the other man.

 _Things are different now_ , he thinks.

At that moment, Gaara begins his attack.

They don’t see anything. There isn’t really anything to see. But they can hear the panicked and desperate shouts of Kutta’s cronies below them. He can imagine it, the sand lurking up to wrap around their ankles and wrists, pulling them in to submission. After about six minutes of silence, broken only occasionally by the hint of a scream before being cut off, Kankuro and Kiba see the sand abruptly retreat towards Gaara’s location, dragging around fifty bound men along the ground. The Kazekage waits with the Maharani’s guards, ready to imprison the criminals.

Recognising their cue, Kiba nods at Kankuro. They launch to the main hall where the majority of dog fights have taken place. As they approach, a sliver of unease settles in Kankuro’s stomach as he wonders if Kiba is going to be able to restrain himself in front of the man.Kiba had apologised again and again, guilty that his actions had led to Kankuro getting hurt. And had assured him that this time, this time for sure, he would trust Kankuro and follow the plan. But a small part of Kankuro still felt fear, and then guilt of his own. Guilt that he’s doubting Kiba’s word. The other man had held him close the night before, and whispered assurances for hours. The message had been clear, Kiba couldn’t do that to him now, wouldn’t do that now that things had changed between them.

But deep down, Kankurowonders iftheir relationship was enough to reign Kiba in; if _he_ was enough. All the reasons for Kiba not to want him come flooding in to his brain and fills his chest until he’s breathing heavier than he should. So he tries to push the insecurity down, and wills for confidence to come just as they burst though the skylight of the hall.

Kutta is the only one that remains in the warehouse, his lackeys long since taken care of. At his feet lies the mangled metal remains of the remote he’d used to control the ninken in the kennel yard on that day. It was the one thing they’d asked Gaara to take care of, leaving him for them otherwise. At least with whatever went down now, there wouldn’t be any canine injuries. Kutta seems unperturbed, and whatever confidence Kankuro feels he’s missing, the crime lord seems to have soaked up like bread dipped in oil. It hangs greasy on his face.

“You’re done, scum.” The words out of Kiba’s mouth are barely legible with how deep they crawl out of his throat in a growl.

Kankuro takes over. “Kutta, you are to be taken prisoner by authority of the Maharani of Episar and the Kazekage. You will stand trial in Episar for your smuggling operation, crimes against animals and to the people of this town. Come peacefully or not, it’s entirely up to you.” Kutta only smiles, which excites a warning grumble in Akamaru’s chest. The ninken had followed them in and stood a metre or two in front of Kankuro. He was starting to get a sneaking suspicion Kiba had ordered the ninken to protect him, and it was slightly embarrassing now as he shuffled to try speak around the massive dog.

“So, I’m to be tried for Wind Country crimes here in Episar. But what about my Konoha crimes?” Kutta’s entire stance is derisive as he lazily lifts his hands in a mockery of surrender. “After all, I did kill that Inuzuka bitch when she tried to free my mutts.”

Kiba crouches low beside him, in a stance that tells Kiba he’s about five seconds from pouncing. Anxiety swells in his chest. All the wants to do is reach out and tell Kiba ‘ _Don’t listen to him! You’ll do exactly what he wants!’_

“You know,” Kutta continues. “You Inuzuka’s really claim to care about these animals, but haven’t you enslaved them to you too?” He begins circling the hall. “They serve you, fight for you…how is that any different to what I’m doing? Huh, you’d swear her little pet would have been thankful after I killed her master. But no, it just cried and cried and cried all day long until really I had no choice but to put her in pup and send her off to Port Kyoka, just so we could get a bit of peace and quiet around here!”

Kankuro can see the drool oozing from between Kiba’s lips now as he lowers to cross his arms onto the ground. His claws have sprung forth and they dig deep into the red-tinged sand beneath them, stained with the blood of countless dogs who have been forced to fight here. Kankuro’s own face forms into a grimace, and when Kutta shuffles his hands into his pockets and removes the familiar purple capsules, he grasps a puppet scroll from his pack. Kutta barely acknowledges Kankuro’s movements, focusing all his malice on Kiba close to the ground.

Which is a mistake on his part.

“Now!” At his shout the waiting ninja springs into action, Akamaru darting to his side as they launch into a synchronised spinning attack. Kutta leaps back, surprisingly agile, but unsurprisingly throwing a handful of small bullets to the ground which exploded and release the chakra-eating poison into the air.

Exactly as they had planned.

Before the gas reaches them, Kiba and Akamaru twist and spin through the gas using their Fang, Passing Fang technique. Kankuro watches as they swoop past a ducking Kutta and circulate the hall until all the gas has been dispersed to safe quantities. The man’s face falls with fear when Kiba and Akamaru come to a halt at the far side of the hall, and immediately begin charging towards him again. Kutta must have been a one-trick pony, for he disperses another smaller handful of gas, before turning and clambering for the exit.

And into the gaping maw of Kuroari’s open chest. Kankuro grinned from the rafters where he had hidden to avoid the Inuzuka whirlwind. With a twitch of his finger their foe is encased within, and with another twitch, two of the puppet’s bladed arms slot into their place. A scream of pain can be heard from inside the puppet, and the two men match it’s leering grin with smirks of their own. Kankuro lets out a sigh of relief then, grateful that Kiba didn’t rush in and attack before he had confirmed Kutta planned to attack with the capsules.

Kankuro locks Kuroari’s doors in place, ensuring that even without chakra, the puppet’s mechanisms will stay closed. Kutta continued to moan and threaten from inside, but the two ignore him as a wave of sand shuffles the puppet towards the far exit and out of sight. Kankuro used that time to heft one of two large scrolls from his back, handing it to Kiba.

“Let’s go,” he says. “I don’t want those ninken here any longer than they need to be.” Kiba takes the scroll and looks at him with such affection that Kankuro blushes and has to look away. He hastens towards the door and heads in the direction of the kennel yard Kutta had handed their asses to them in weeks before.

The yard is much the same as it was, with shivering dogs hunched in their cages. A few younger pups bark and whine as Kiba and Kankuro approach and unfurl the large scroll on the ground.“ Now, you won’t be able to fit them all, so just take the injured. The Maharani has said she’ll send people to look after the rest.”

Kiba nods, but his mouth folds into an unhappy line. He makes a grab for the nearest cage, and his fingers slip on the lock, twice, before he gives up and breaks it with a kick. The ninken inside are some older dogs, and certainly some sick ones. Many of them have weeping open wounds, and Kiba rushes to these first.

Over the next half hour, he stabilises and tends to the worst of the ninken. Kankuro seals the nursed ninken comfortably into his scroll, which he has designed as a form of stasis chamber. Kiba had instructed him on what it needed the day before, and he’d spent hours forming the seal to his exact measurements. He watches as Kiba approaches the final cage, where the ninken inside are barely moving, and a strong scent of death wafts out one he opens the door.

Kiba doesn’t manage not to retch at the stench with his sensitive nose, so Kankuro walks over and uses his chakra strings to drag the offending corpses out without the need to touch them. Only one ninken remains alive in this particular pen, and it reminds Kankuro of the crate where all of this had started in Port Kyoka not too long ago.

If someone had told him a month ago that he would be here, in Episar, with Inuzuka Kiba, liberating the townspeople and ninken of a corrupt crime lord while in cahoots with the ex-fiancee who almost killed him, he’d have scoffed and told them to pull the other one. And yet, here he was, gently holding the maw of a large dog as Kiba applied salve to a badly infected wound on his hind leg.

“He’ll lose the leg,” Kiba informs him.

And while yes, the situation was horrible, to see animals treated this way, in reality there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be than at this man’s side. Even now, as he looks on and Kiba catches his eye for a moment, he feels his heart skip a beat in amazement and his breath stutters.

He casts his eyes down again. What the hell? Did Kiba slip him a love potion or something while he was ill? Where did all these _feelings_ come from? Sure, the man was attractive. Well, he was _gorgeous._ All freckly tan skin, thick build, a white toothy smile and dark deep brown eyes that stole Kankuro’s air from his lungs. Wasn’t it always just attraction?

But then, Kiba had been the one who brought life to his home, who was there when he needed him, who wouldn’t abandon him, who fought at his side and called him out on his shit, who was straightforward and confident and unwaveringly genuine to the point where he stunned Kankuro daily with his frankness. And Kankuro admired him for it. In the past few weeks, he’d used Kiba faith in him, his strength, as his own. And if he was to look back, he wouldn’t have achieved this outcome without him. He’d probably be married already, in a loveless and hateful marriage that neither party wanted.

With all this in mind, he helps Kiba secure the last pup in the stasis scroll. Then he carefully rolls it back up and lifts it back onto his back. When he turns back to Kiba, he finds a hand on his shoulder and that dazzling smile right in his face. “Thank you,” whispers Kiba with such sincerity and relief that Kankuro imagines he can literally see the weight lift off of the other man’s shoulders. His response is to grab the fabric of Kiba’s shirt at his forearm and drag him under a high wall that obscures them from view.

There he kisses Kiba tenderly, nice and quick and thoughtful. He tries to make Kiba understand through the kiss all these _feelings_ he’s come to realise in the past ten minutes. Feelings he has yet to put a name on. But when he feels his lips just aren’t earnest enough, he releases them from Kiba’s and in between pecks tells him exactly what he was thinking moments ago. “You’re amazing,” he begins, pecking Kiba’s clan marking on his left cheek. “Beautiful,” he says, nosing his nose. “So strong,” he insists, pressing his forehead to Kiba’s own.

“Please,” he begs. “Be mine.”

Kiba reels back to marvel into Kankuro’s eyes, and his mouth hangs open in wonder. Kankuro seals his lips quickly over the gap, before closing his eyes and returning his forehead to Kiba’s own. His thick hair scratches at Kankuro’s bare skin, much like how he squirmed his way into Kankuro’s affections; abrasive and insistent. “Please,” whispers Kankuro again, taking Kiba’s hands into his own.

“Yes,” Kiba whispers back. “Of course.” He wretches his hand up to Kankuro’s cheek and pulls him in for another kiss until they are both breathless. Their lips release with a loud smack, and then strong arms wrap around his shoulders. He sinks into the hug and smiles into Kiba’s neck. _Mine_ , he thinks, pressing his lips there.

They are interrupted by a pointed cough. They both freeze for a moment, then Kankuro slowly lifts his head to see his brother standing at the entrance to the small alley they’d found their way to. Gaara’s face is expressionless, although if Kankuro was a betting man he would say he can see a tinge of embarrassment in the redness of the shell of Gaara’s ears. But with the sand armour, he’s probably just imagining it. Kankuro coughs himself, then slowly extracts himself from Kiba’s embrace. However, he reaches down and locks their hands together before dragging Kiba to his side. “So, Gaara, we’re…together now,” he says with only a small amount of embarrassment, mostly just from getting caught making out in an alley when they are probably supposed to be debriefing from their mission.

Gaara says nothing, just flicks his eyes back and forth between their faces and their hands. Finally, he softens his frown. “It’s your choice, Kankuro. Congratulations.” And Kankuro can tell he means it, even if Kiba can’t, the tension remains in the his shoulders as Kankuro’s relax.

“Phew,” he sighs. “Now just the hard part left. Telling Temari!” Kankuro laughs as a flicker of remembrance flitters across Gaara’s face.

“I forgot to tell you, Kankuro.”

“Huh? Tell me what?”

“Temari is pregnant.”

“…WHAT?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Kutta has been taken care of, Kiba and Kankuro are offish and they've solved the mystery of what has happened to Kiba's cousin. I can't believe this story is coming to an end! I started this in the weeks before coronavirus became a thing, and it's insane to think I won't have this story constantly in the back of my mind soon. Hope you all enjoy the upcoming ending. And also, this story will be getting it's E rating soon, be warned!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys return to Suna, and there's a council meeting to be had.

Kankuro’s cave is…different, he notices. The dogs are out with Inara, but the evidence of their existence lies everywhere. He looks at the fur-covered blankets on the couch. Spots the crusty dog bowls peeking through the archway to the kitchen, and the leashes thrown over the weird crocodile statue. And there’s certainly a sweet scent of puppy mixed with the woody smell of sawdust in the air, undercut by the whiff of urine and _worse_. Kankuro raises a finger to his nose, and eyes the skylight which he realises is already open. It’s startling to grasp the idea that this is just what his home smells like now. And for a moment he wonders if he likes it. Can he really get used to this?

But then Kiba rounds the door behind him, clasping his shoulder tightly. He’s standing so close Kankuro can feel the deep inhale he takes in through his nose as Kiba moves his hand to wrap around Kankuro’s waist, bringing him into a hug from behind. He’s held loosely, considering the travel pack still on his back, but Kiba presses his face into the nape of his neck and drags in another loud breath through his nose. When he releases it, his whole body sags against Kankuro with a sigh, and he has to catch himself against the door frame.

“Hey! You’re gonna make me fall!”

“Good,” Kiba responds holding him tighter and hefting himself up, bringing up his legs to wrap around his hips. Or he tries to. The pack gets in the way, and Kankuro finds he is quickly overbalanced. He tips over when Kiba inexplicably grazes his teeth into the back of his neck, not enough to break skin, but enough to startle Kankuro into losing his battle with gravity and crash face first to the ground with the other ninja still clutching his back.

“What the hell what that for?!” His hand swipes along the back of his neck, and finds it damp with saliva.

“You smell good. I couldn’t resist,” Kiba says with a tone tells Kankuro that there’s a petulant pout on his lips.He then nuzzles his sweat damp face into Kankuro’s ear and temple causing him to scrunch his eyes closed to avoid stray spikes of Kiba’s hair from poking them. But he doesn’t make a move to get up, instead he stills on the ground, allowing Kiba to continue his ministrations.

“We have literally travelled days through the desert with not a single chance to wash. I smell disgusting.” Kiba just chuckles and licks a stripe up the side of Kankuro’s face from his jaw to his hairline. Kankuro shakes him off. “ _You’re_ disgusting,” he accuses. “Get off me.” He elbows Kiba in the ribs but the another man dodges.

“No,” he says while childishly pulling Kankuro into a tighter hug.

“Fine!” Kankuro announces. “I was going to suggest a shower together before the pups get back, but if you wanna just lay here instead…”

Kiba is up and off him before Kankuro can even finish the sentence. His head perks up, reminding Kankuro of a dog who’s just been suggested a walk. Kiba drags the packs from their backs, and nimbly pushes him towards the bathroom with his mouth somehow attached to his neck once again. Kankuro laughs as he pulls off his shirt and Kiba whines when he loses access for all of two seconds. Taking the opportunity, he reaches for the hem of the other man’s shirt. It a fit of mischief he rakes his fingers up Kiba’s ribs and tickles him. Kiba relinquishes his quest to devour Kankuro’s neck with a violent jolt that lurches his whole body away from their embrace.

“Oh,” blurts Kankuro. A wicked smile creeps onto his lips. “Ticklish, are we?”

“No!” Kiba retreats, then yelps as Kankuro stalks towards him with his hands wiggling. “Get those puppet-fuckers away from me!”

“I don’t fuck puppets with my fingers!”

“So…you admit you fuck puppets?” Kiba grins attempting to crouch behind the battered sofa.

Kankuro lunges, and Kiba screeches as he trips over a small chew toy and falls backwards. He is caught by Kankuro, who slings him over his shoulder with a threatening hand skimming along his sensitive ribs. Kiba’s legs flail and his arms push against Kankuro back as he tries desperately to escape. A leg in each of Kankuro’s hands stills him, but it’s only when he turns his head to brush teeth against the side of a sensitive abdomen does Kiba stop struggling. An involuntary and high-pitched whimper tears itself from Kiba’s throat and they both freeze where they stand in Kankuro’s living room. Kankuro rubs a hand appreciatively up Kiba’s side until the other man shivers and whines again. The room get’s hotter, and then he feels it; Kiba’s excitement pressing into his good shoulder.

“Shower,” croaks Kiba, slapping on Kankuro’s shoulder now for a different reason. But he’s already marching in the direction of the bathroom praying to any god out there that Inara takes her time bringing the dogs back.

—

It turns out Inara had brought the dogs and pups for a check up in Suna’s clinic. Having learned from her past mistake, she’d made to be an excellent dog sitter. The pups flounce out of the crate once she sets it down on the carpeted floor of the living room, and stomp all over each other to reach their outstretched hands. Kankuro finds his face licked for the second time today. Kankuro gives her a promise of a recommendation to her superiors as thanks, and she heads on her way with a pleased smile.

Burger and Jelly are a little more cautious of Kankuro than Kiba. A pang of unexpected hurt bursts through his chest when Burger skitters away from his offered hand. But before he can draw it back, Kiba firmly grasps his wrist and holds it back out to the dogs. “Just let him get used to your scent. They’ll remember you. You just look a bit different than they’re used to.” Sure enough, Kiba coaxes the two to scent Kankuro’s hand until the guarded sniff turned to a furious snuffling. Soon Burger and Jelly are shoving their noses inquisitively into every crevice while the rhythmic thumping of wagging tails hits the couch.

“There you go, buddy,” says Kiba, releasing Kankuro’s wrist. When a reproachful look is sent his way, Kiba just rolls his eyes. “I meant the dog. Obviously.” He reaches over and scoops up one of the ninken puppies, allowing it to nibble on his finger tips. They’ve grown what seems like twice the size since they left for Episar, and Kankuro is starting to notice the resemblance to the dead Konoha ninken they’d found in that crate in Port Kyoka.

“You’re going to have to report back about her soon,” he says. ‘Her’ being Kiba’s cousin, Inuzuka Tsuki, who has a wife and two children back in Konoha still unsure as to her whereabouts. As far as he’s aware, no letter or missive has been sent back to inform the Hokage about the completion of the mission. Kankuro doesn’t know what Kiba was waiting for.

“Yeah,” responds Kiba. “I’ll do it…soon. I just..I just…want to wait…a bit.”

Kankuro doesn’t ask why, content to let Kiba decide realise himself that he is keeping his family in the lurch. So instead he just cocks an eyebrow as if to say _It’s not my business, but I disapprove._ Kiba picks up on that and brings a hand up to brush his fingertips gently across the head of the puppy in his arms. But the pup just struggles, still too young to appreciate a good scratch behind the ears.

“Once I report back…I have to leave.” Kiba keeps his eyes lowered, so Kankuro can’t see the expression on his face. Puzzlement washes over his face in a frown.

“I mean, yeah? Obviously?” Kiba looks up then. Kankuro realises a little too late that maybe his words should have been more soothing. “Do you not want to leave?” He’s trying, but he can tell immediately that those aren’t the words Kiba wants to here. There’s a sudden awkwardness between them. Kiba, taken aback, shakes his head slightly as if he’s just realised something he’d not taken into account before. The puppy is carefully placed on the ground as red heat blooms across his cheeks. Kankuro stands with him, reaching out stiffly, as if to try soften the painful twist of Kiba’s mouth as it downturns in unhappiness. “No, I just meant. Like, you have to go back at some stage, right?”

Long-distance relationships are hard. He’s watched his sister navigate one for years. The toil of the travelling, or the worry of ineffective communication and the strife from the council. It’s difficult. And he knows the realities of what a relationship between them will look like. That in a perfect world, they could just hang out and go on dates and sleep over whenever they wanted. But he’s a shinobi of the Hidden Sand and Kiba is a shinobi of the Hidden Leaf. Two villages, three days away. They have different leaders, different orders and different missions. Their work is important; people depend on them to keep them safe. It can’t just be abandoned.

But if he wasn’t a better shinobi and a better man, he’d abandon his post in a heartbeat for this man across from him, just to erase the upset on his face. He needs Kiba to know this. Needs to tell him.

But right then, Seto the messenger comes with a summons. And like the time so long ago in his workshop, he brings news of a council meeting, and a letter from the Kazekage.

—-

Kankuro takes five minutes to dress in his usual black attire. When he passes through the living room to the bathroom, he spots Kiba writing hastily in a small messenger scroll. Akamaru stands behind him, with his large head perched on his shoulder. The ninken lets out a low whine, and Kiba stops to absentmindedly swipe a hand across his forehead. “I’m alright,” he assures in a whisper. Kankuro stops.

“What are you doing?”

Kiba glances up. “Writing to the Hokage,” he says. “Informing him of the completion of the mission…and my return to Konoha tomorrow.” The scratching of the pen on paper continues.

He’s leaving.

Tomorrow.

Kankuro nods after a moment, although Kiba isn’t looking to see it. In the bathroom his face paint is waiting on his shelf, exactly where he’d left it. The paint is applied, and afterwards Kankuro realises he has no memory doing it. Two geometric triangles angle downwards from the line that crosses over his nose and across his cheeks. He wipes them away, mortified that he’d unconsciously copied the clan markings on Kiba’s face. Embarrassed that he can be so obvious with his unconscious feelings but can’t be honest with the man in the other room. Can’t be honest with himself. Leaning his hands on the sink, he looks into the mirror.

A coward looks back.

“No,” he decides. Kiba startles as the bathroom door is flung open with a loud bang. He is standing in the centre of the living room, under the skylight. A messenger hawk loosens from his hands and flies towards the open window, the small scroll wrapped securely around its leg. A less desperate man might have tried to close the window, but Kankuro is despondent and instead he loosens three shuriken at the bird. It gives an outraged screech, but it’s a Suna hawk and easily evades the missiles and swoops up and out the window.

“Fuck!” He wrenches the hood from his head and fires it onto the couch.

“What the HELL are you doing?!” Kiba stares at him, mouth open so low Kankuro can see his sharp bottom canines clearly.

Kankuro stalks forward and grabs him round the upper arms. Akamaru pants audibly nearby, no doubt ready to pounce should Kankuro think to start firing near his master.

“Look,” Kankuro begins. “I asked you to be mine. And you said you would. Now I don’t know how they do things in Konoha -actually, strike that- I _do_ know how they do things in Konoha. My sister did the long distance thing and she’s _so happy_ now but it took a while to get there and it was _hard_. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want that and, you know, what I mean is, _I do want that._ But I live here and you live there and I’m being realistic… and-and I know it takes a while to get to the point where I can ask you my next question, and you can say yes. Because you _can’t_ say yes, at least not yet. But I’m going to ask you anyway and you have to say no. But that doesn’t make it any less that the truth, any less than what I want. I just…didn’t want to ask because we both know you have to leave. And I feel like such a coward, for not starting this sooner, with all that time we had together that we could have spent _together_. Time that _I_ wasted. So please don’t be sad and just, smile or something, because I don’t want to remember the sad things and the regret when you walk away from me tomorrow.”

Kiba’s eyes never leave his the entire time, and by the end of the confession they are glassy. His throat bobs twice as he attempts to swallow, and his bottom lip quivers when he says “Ask me then.” He reaches up between then and presses hands to either side of Kankuro’s face. “Ask me. I’ll say no.” The end of the sentence chokes off and his lips close together in a hard shifting line. “Please, ask me.”

“Stay,” asks Kankuro softly. “Please don’t leave me. I want you to stay.”

Kiba’s smile is watery, and Kankuro tastes salt when he covers it with a kiss, unwilling to hear the answer, but knowing it all the same.

—

They arrive late to the council meeting, but Kankuro finds that half the members aren’t even there. He isn’t surprised. Kankuro was the one who summoned them all in the first place, and its not usually his place to do more than make a request for a meeting. The Suna government is such that appearances are crucial, and to not show up is a very pointed ‘this isn’t worth my time’.

Which is exactly what Kankuro planned and will hopefully work in his favour.

Kiba stands outside, not to be seen privy to Suna’s affairs, so Kankuro walks in alone. He takes a seat at the head of the table beside a veiled woman reviewing a large scroll with rows of neatly written numbers. A disapproving grumble swells across the members.

“Fancy yourself the Kazekage now, Kankuro?” Chairperson Tatsuki sits at the opposite end of the table, amid a collection of supporters. “What could be so important as to summon the Council almost immediately upon your return from your _failed_ mission to Episar?”

Kankuro cocks his head. “And why are you so sure it has failed?”

“Have you been wed? To that woman who’d call herself queen?” He leans conspiratorially into his cronies, who snigger along with him. “We rather heard what she thought of you. I admit that we did have some concern for your _knees_.” One council woman titters loudly behind her hand.

“How uncivilised,” she laughs.

It seems that his apology did more to damage his reputation amongst the Suna government than he thought. For the first time since he’s come up with the plan, he’s starting to doubt it’s success. Especially considering the absence of his brother, and how the council feels they can treat him when he alone. It gives hims pause, and suddenly the words he has to say clog up his throat.

But then the door opens, and Kiba walks in. Kankuro realises he must have heard everything from the other side of the door.

The council turn to watch, the whispers returning, as he walks to lean against the left wall with Akamaru in tow. Kankuro catches his eyes, and the lump in his throat dissipates.

“Excuse me,” begins Tatsuki. “But this is a private Sungakure meeting, and not open to the ears of the Hidden Leaf.” Kiba doesn’t move, just maintains a steady glare at the chairman.

“Inuzuka Kiba has been hired as protection,” informs Kankuro.

“You need protection?!” Tatsuki startles out another laugh, eyeing Kankuro with unrestrained mirth.

“Actually, I hired him.” says the previously veiled woman to Kankuro’s left. “As Maharani of Episar, you can never be too careful to watch out for assassins…or _snakes_.”The sound of creaking chairs echoes in the hall, as the council members leans forward to see who has spoken. Astonished whispers cut through the silence of the next few moments, as the Maharani levels the chairman with a keen stare. “I apologise that it has been too long since a delegate from Episar has visited the capital. The invitations must have been lost by the hawks.”

Tatsuki just steels his face, obviously very unhappy at being cornered and deceived like this. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Lady Cinta.”

“Your highness is fine,” she retorts. “And I am here to discuss terms for Episar’s independence.”

Tatsuki tuts and a few smiles appear around the table. “That would be impossibl-”

“Which I now know to be impossible, as clearly explained by the Kazekage’s brother,” she continues, ignoring the chairman. Kankuro inclines his head.

“So we have decided that the best way forward is to grant Episar city state status within Wind’s borders,” Kankuro adds to the visible shock of some council members. “Along with that, Suna will provide the city with security and a police unit until such a time that they have started their own ninja academy and trained their own shinobi. We will also encourage trade links and political relationships between Episar and other countries, allowing them to build up their economy which will benefit Wind’s economy as a whole. Episar also wishes for a permanent seat on the council of Suna, so they can contribute more to shinobi affairs.”

The cacophony of outrage as the council members surge forward to protest is one Kankuro expected, but is difficult to reign back in. He presses his fingers to his temple as the noise continues, and eight people shout over each other in such a racket that he can’t decipher the words that they are saying. Tatsuki stays silent, he notices. The old man sits with his arms folded and a downturned twist to his mouth.

“Alright, alright, quiet,” he tries, but the shouts continue until a large bark stuns the crowd to silence. Akamaru sits back down on his haunches. Kankuro nods at him gratefully. “Enough.”

“Are we to believe that Episar has a better deal to offer us to warrant this proposal? A lower price on their water, perhaps?” Tatsuki eyes the Maharani now. His eyes are wide with expectance, and intrigue.

“Of course,” she agrees, meeting his stare. “Episar is bountiful with water due to an underground river. And since the Kazekage has gotten rid of the criminals who held the source hostage, we are now in a position to offer more water than ever, and entirely free for our liberators.”

“…Free?”

“Entirely…for our liberators. Please know that Episar is willing to fight for our survival, and if Suna is unwilling to help us, we’ll take our water to other bidders who would be more than happy to fight with us.”

“So this is it, you give us a choice between war or water.”

“I think it’s a simple choice. And one the previous Kazekage easily made.” A stony silence follows her words. Many of these council men and woman would have sat on the same council that made the decision to assassinate her father. A heaviness weighs down the air.

“The Daimyo has agreed,” adds Kankuro. “The Kazekage met with him yesterday and we received word from Gaara this morning that he believes the proposal to be sound.”

Tatsuki inhales a heavy breath, thinking furiously. He is cornered, and there is nothing he can do or say without being labelled a warmonger. His arms unfold and place themselves on the table. The rest of the council doesn’t receive consultation. There isn’t any vote, to Kankuro’s surprise

“Fine. The council accepts the terms as it greatly benefits the people of Suna and it’s surrounding area. We have one request. An ambassador for Suna should be permanently placed within the city of Episar.”

“Agreed,” says the Maharani. “I request Kankuro of the Sand to be the official Ambassador for Suna in Episar. Considering the work he has done in drafting this agreement, I trust his judgement would benefit both cities.”

The chairman just about manages not to snarl, clearly having wished to place a spy of his own in the city. But he acquiesces and gives a slow bow of his head.

“Excellent,” announces the Maharani. “I will be in the city for a further few days to discuss the terms. I’m looking forward to doing business with you on this historic occasion.”

——

The day passes in a flurry, with reams of treaties and agreements analysed to draft the official document between the two cities. Kankuro drowns himself in number and words, writing until his fingers are stained with ink and he struggles to straighten his fingers in anything not resembling a claw. Anything to distract himself from the fact that Kiba leaves the following day, and he’s taking the puppies with him.

They’re packed securely in one of the same scrolls that they’d used to rescue the ninken from Kutta’s yard. Some of the ninken from then still rest inside, too sick for Kiba’s healing and needing the specialist care of his sister in Konoha. Kankuro stares at the scroll that is less than an inch from his eyes, as he’s wrapped himself carefully around Kiba in a lingering tight hug.

Neither of them speak, having said everything that needed to be said earlier. Kiba mumbles into his shoulder, and reluctantly Kankuro pulls back to hear him.

“What?”

“I said, ‘it’s only going to be a month’.” It sounds like Kiba is trying to placate himself more than Kankuro.

“One month. Then you can be my date for Temari’s wedding.”

“She’ll kill me,” Kiba gasps suddenly. “I wasn’t supposed to bang her brother!” 

Kankuro laughs, throwing his head back to the sky. “She’ll just have to deal.”

“Promise you’ll save me from her?”

“Promise,” Kankuro says, softly brushing his thumb over the markings on Kiba’s cheek. “And… I’ll miss you. Stay with me?”

“You know I can’t, you tease.” says Kiba with a sad smile. “Hey, look after Burger and Jelly for me, yeah? They’ll miss the little ones.”

“Do you not trust me?” Kankuro acts offended and pokes a finger into Kiba’s sensitive side. “How dare you?”

“Hey! I still remember that crusty yard you guys kept them in when I first got here. I’ve whipped Suna into ninken shape! It better stay that way.”

“Oh, so my house is now the new kennels? Really? That’s your solution? Am I to be over-run by ninken for the rest of my life?”

Kiba guffaws. “I mean…if not a bad way to live,” he says suggestively. His brown eyes bore into Kankuro’s with such a look of longing that he feels he will take Kiba’s hand and follow him to Konoha, Suna be damned.

But he can’t.

“It wouldn’t be a bad life,” he says. “Someday.” Kiba’s forehead is hot as he cuts the distance between them and gives him one lasting kiss. The outline of Kiba’s fangs linger on his tongue as he watches him mount Akamaru and, with one last salute, ride away into the desert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! I can't believe it. It will be an epilogue of sorts, and take place at Temari's wedding. It will also be explicit, consider yourself warned.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankuro and Kiba celebrate Temari's wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https: //www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/83672393 - 18+ Fanart: The Wedding Guests by Naomimimi, the art the inspired the explicit scene later int this chapter.
> 
> Alternative link: https: //www.deviantart.com/ruth-ilano/art/Thirst-852147476

“Wearing lilac was a good call. Suits you, Tem.”

Temari turns to face him and Kankuro is momentarily stunned by how beautiful she looks. The dress is in the traditional style, but with a modern twist. Sheer light fabric wraps around her shoulders and overlaps to tuck into the intricate belt holding the long floral skirt to her waist. The busyness at the front hides the small bump of her pregnant belly, although she admits that wasn’t the intention. The disappointment was clear when she had tried on her dress after fittings, upon discovering her baby bump was unnoticeable.

“Thank you, Kankuro,” she says with a smile, stroking her abdomen and sighing happily. “I just can’t wait for this day to be over.”

“You mean you aren’t enjoying yourself?” A line appears on Gaara’s hairless brow, confusion marrying his pale skin.

“I don’t like being the centre of attention, Gaara.” She contemplates herself in the mirror. “The dress, the makeup, the hair, it’s not marriage for me. I can’t wait for tomorrow, after all this is done. That’s what I’m looking forward to, my life with Shikamaru in our new home. And raising our child to be a c=strong shinobi.”

“Ew, Tem, stop,” gags Kankuro with exaggerated heaves and a fist over his mouth. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“Oh shut up, Kankuro. As if you _haven’t_ been eye-fucking that dog man since you got here. You better not bang him at my wedding I swear I will end you.” She advances towards him with her finger pointed into his face. Even though the delicate makeup adorns her skin, she still looks fierce, and Kankuro has no doubt she’d have him by the balls if he disobeys her.

“Jeeze, Temari. Why you gotta call me out me like that?” He scratches his neck awkwardly. “I haven’t even gotten to talk to him since I arrived,” he whines.

“Talking will be the only thing you do,” she warns. “Save it for the wedding night.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“Bit late for that, don’t you think?”

“Ew, Tem. Stop. I’m going. Before I can’t look my new brother-in-law in the eye!”

“Wait,” she says, as a blush rises up her cheeks. “I wanted to ask you two something.”

“Yes?” Gaara stands by him in a deep maroon suit that she’d picked out. Kankuro hadn’t been allowed to wear his own clothes either, and uncharacteristically dons a dark three-piece grey suit with a white shirt, sans makeup or hood. His hair has grown out a bit in the last month, to which he is grateful, but he still feels a bit uncomfortable and overdressed. He’d balked on the blue tie, opting instead for a purple one, which Temari mercifully allowed him. Gaara had chosen a leaf green tie, and Temari had rolled her eyes and compared him to a tomato plant. “I like green,” he’d explained, so they’d let him be and fixed his hair to be a little neater than normal.

“Now, I don’t want anyone giving me away,” she continues. “I’m not being ‘given away’, no one owns me. But would you guys walk with me to Shikamaru for the ceremony? His mother is accompanying him and I want you guys to be with me.” She finishes by putting an arm on each of their shoulders as they stand side by side. “You’re my little brothers, and I’m gonna miss you guys so much.” Her eyes tear up and a wobbly pout forms that tells the brothers she is about two seconds away from losing it.

“Of course, Tem,” he says, equally touched, at the same time Gaara nods and admits, “I would be honoured.”

“Thank you,” she says and gives their shoulders a squeeze. “Let’s go.” They link their arms with hers, Kankuro on the right side and Gaara on the left, and walk out the door. The Nara clan compound has been decorated for the event, with the ceremony taking place in the central courtyard in the afternoon sun. All the guests are seated, most of the Konoha cohort and few Suna representatives. No one from the Council, Kankuro notes. Although it was unlikely Temari would have invited them in the first place.

A soft flute begins playing once Temari approaches the garden, and Kankuro realises they were waiting on them to begin the ceremony as Shikamaru begins walking towards them in the opposite direction. Suddenly he’s embarrassed as all eyes turn towards them, the majority of the guests more interested in the bride than the groom. Kankuro tries to look around the crowd out of the corner of his eye, but their progression to the wedding arch captures his attention once he realises that this is the point where he and Gaara must let Temari go.

Unexpectedly, he’s faced with a childish reluctance to release his arm from his sister’s. He looks to her, and she looks back. There’s tears in her eyes, he notices, but it’s not sadness. Her mouth is curling with the need to smile as she tries to reign in what Kankuro knows to be a goofy grin when she’s truly happy. A squeeze to her arm is all he allows himself then, before he removes it entirely and turns to take his seat. On the other side, Gaara has turned to do the same. A small smile is Gaara’s gift to the exchange, and it nearly distracts Kankuro from the man behind him.

Kiba sits in the second row, too far away from Kankuro. Pure unrestrained affection crinkles his eyes as he smiles in a grin that shows way too much of his upper teeth. Kankuro’s heart jumps so hard he almost trips over his feet. It’s only been a month since they last saw each other. Kankuro’s had missions longer than that. But it felt like a year. He’s been longing; to see him, to hold him, to kiss him.

Only a month and yet here he is, breath stolen, drinking in Kiba’s smile like a man dying of thirst. It’s as if up until this moment, or maybe until Kiba came into his life, he’d been harbouring a hole, or a crack, or…a missing cog, unable to function properly without him. He’s spent his life trying to figure things out; his place in the family, his role, his puppets…and then Kiba had come and completed the mechanism with a joke and a kiss as if to say ‘ _There, wasn’t that easy?’_

Abruptly he is sitting in his seat, but his gazes snaps back to Kiba. People shift forward to watch the couple as the Nara officiant begins, and Kankuro has to crane his neck to look around the guests. Kiba’s smile turns embarrassed and he mouths ’ _Stop it and watch_ ’ with a jerk of his head towards the front.

 _‘I love you_ ,’ mouths Kankuro, the words slipping from his mouth as easy as the promises Temari and Shikamaru give each other in front of them. Kiba raises a fist to his mouth. Kankuro feels his own face stretch into a smile as he turns to watch the rest of the ceremony, leaving Kiba to his stunned awe.

—

Kankuro doesn’t make it to dinner.

A rough hand grabs him as they accompany the newlywed couple to their first meal as man and wife. Shikamaru and Temari are so enamoured with each other they don’t notice when Kankuro disappears down the side of a building with his captor, although Gaara definitely twitches his head in their direction. Kankuro takes it as a promise he’ll cover for them, as he’s dragged by Kiba to a small building separated from the main compound by a large pond. The sliding door rattles against it’s frame as Kiba flings it open and bodily throws Kankuro into the room. He has about one second to check his surroundings - a tastefully decorated, yet dark, living room - before Kiba is on him, lips first.

He misses in the darkness and instead kisses Kiba’s left nostril. He steadies Kiba’s head and feels the barely there scruff beneath his fingertips. Kiba has shaved for the occasion, but perhaps a day or two ago. The short bristles create friction on the palm of Kankuro’s hands then sets him alight. He steps back, and Kiba follows, pushing him until the back of his knees hit a small side table in the hallway. It takes only a quick shuffle to the side to flip Kiba around and press him up against the wall beside it.

Kankuro would like to make it to the couch, or even better, a bed, but right now, the wall will have to do. Kiba’s wearing a grey patterned shirt beneath a blue suit and Kankuro manages to pull back from the kiss long enough to watch his hand wrap around the other man’s waist and shuck the shirt from his trousers to feel underneath. It’s been too long since he’s seen the other man’s body, but he’s forced to look away when Kiba grabs his tie from where it’s tucked within his waistcoat, and uses it to slot their mouths together once again. The buttons of Kiba’s shirt clink across the polished wooden floor as Kankuro rips it open.

Kiba pushes him back from the kiss with a wet smack and glances down at his heaving chest. “I love you,” he blurts. His blue tie brushes against a bare toned abdomen, and Kankuro hisses appreciatively as he brings his hands to rest at Kiba’s waist. “I love you too,” replies Kankuro, and then Kiba reaches up to hastily undo Kankuor’s own shirt and pull it down from his shoulders. However Kankuro is reluctant to let go of him, so his sleeves catch and bunch up at his elbows. He presses Kiba back into the wall with his mouth attached to his neck and sucks, hard, while Kiba gets to work on their belts with a groan.

Like Kankuro predicted, they don’t make it to the couch. But the wall is also deemed too uncomfortable for the kind of activity Kiba has in mind when he pulls a small bottle of lube and a condom from the inside pocket of his suit jacket that had been discarded minutes earlier. Kiba sinks to his knees for Kankuro to prepare him. Soon his moans turn from encouraging to begging. And by the time he’s taking four fingers, Kankuro can tell he’s ready. “I’m ready,” he pants. “Kankuro, just put it in already. It’s been so long. Please.” The begging sends a burn through him, and Kiba watches him with a teasing grin, knowing that Kankuro likes the sound of his voice when he pleads.

Wrapping his hands tightly around Kiba’s waist, he lines himself up, barely pressing in to tease Kiba in return. “Don’t be a dick,” whines Kiba and Kankuro huffs out a laugh before watching the space where their bodies meet as he enters him slowly. Strangled moans escape from both their throats as Kankuro’s hips press snugly against Kiba when he’s fully inside.

“Move,” pants Kiba, sounding like the breath has been knocked from his lungs.

“Just…give it a minute,” hisses Kankuro through gritted teeth. Kiba is so tight he fears he’s going to pop there and then. A hand reaches back and wraps around his purple tie and yanks.

“Fucking _move_.” Kiba is pushing backwards, trying to impale himself on Kankuro but they are already so close together he moves minutely. It still causes Kankuro to utter a curse between his teeth, but he rears back his hips and thrusts back in deeply.

Kiba keens. So Kankuro builds up a steady pace and the other man lowers his upper body to the floor, meeting his thrusts until an obscene slapping sound can be heard throughout the room. “Harder,” begs Kiba.

He’s turned his head to reveal closed eyes and an open mouth that pants hot breaths onto the floor, causing a thin layer of fog to dull it’s sheen. Kankuro closes his eyes at the sight, struggling to regain his control and knowing this is going to be over way too soon for either of them to be satisfied. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer.,” he admits, bending over to press his hips down onto Kiba’s in a quicker and rougher pace. “It’s been too long.”

“That’s fine,” says Kiba, cutting off a cry. “Just _harder_ , please.” So Kankuro sinks into Kiba at a harsher angle, lowering to wrap his body around him when he starts slipping across the polished floor and out of his reach. Their mutual groaning builds to a crescendo as Kankuro’s rhythm barrels to a punishing pace until he stutters to a groaning halt, pressing deep inside. He continues to grind slowly as he reaches a hand around and jerks Kiba until he too comes with a loud moan. He tightens around and Kankuro strokeshim through it, until Kiba’s legs give in and Kankuro collapses on top of him, pressing wet kisses to the back of his neck.

“I missed you,” he whispers.

A tremor shakes through the body below him. Kankuro thinks he’s laughing. “I missed you too. I wish there was a way we could see each other more.”

Kankuro leans over to put his mouth right by Kiba’s ear. They both hiss as their still joined bodies shift against one another. Still he ignores it and whispers, “But what there was a way?”

A look of confusion passes over Kiba’s brow and he sits up, pushing Kankuro off him and causing him to pull out sharply which extracts a gasp from both of them. Kiba turns to face him asking, “What do you mean?

“I mean, I came here obviously for Tem’s wedding, but I’m also here on business. You know I’ve been working closely with the Maharani as Ambassador, and how we’ve been busy establishing the new Academy?”

“Yeah?,” pouts Kiba, having previously made it clear her didn’t like Kankuro spending so much time with his ex-fiancee. They'd exchanged many messages on Episar's progress, and on the successes of its plan for development. Kankuro had done a lot himself, and would have felt like her right-hand man, if that spot wasn't taken by her new betrothed and former bodyguard.

“Well, with all the planning, there hasn't been much time to sort out a more permanent solution for the ninken, what with the needed improvements to the city, and the Maharani has put in a request to the Hokage for you to come and teach ninken handling to the children in the Academy.”

“Wait,” says Kiba, placing a hand on Kankuro’s chest. “She wants me - _me_ \- to be a teacher?!”

“Yeah,” says Kankuro, feeling chagrined. “It’s not that bad! I’ve been doing some puppet instruction and y’know…it’s not terrible…Plus! You’ll also be acting as official Ambassador for Konoha and encourage trade links between the town and the village. The council hasn’t been able to say no to anything now the Kazekage and Daimyo are in agreement so we’re pretty much getting away with what we want. Sounds awesome, right?”

Kiba gives him an incredulous look. “Me? Talking trade links and politics?”

“It’s not as hard as you think,” says Kankuro with a pout of his own, and remembering a time not so long ago when he’s thought the same thing. “And you know, I’ll be there beside you every day…and every night.” Kiba raises an eyebrow considering. “I have a new cave, with a ll the same snakes and couches and Burger and Jelly of course. But…it’s missing something. And you know, I can ask you now,” continues Kankuro. “You can still say no. But I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Ask me then.” Kiba is smiling wide, like he was at the ceremony earlier, with obvious affection.

“Stay with me?” It comes out breathy, like Kankuro’s breath had been stolen away.

“Yes.” His smile is pressed against Kankuro’s cheek, who turns his head to capture his lips in a slow greeting. The kiss breaks quickly, both of them so delirious with glee that their smiles can’t be wiped from their faces.

—

They arrive at the meal half-way through the main course, and Kankuro is glad he’s only missed the starters. He’s worked up quite an appetite in the past half hour.

“Wow, this beef looks lovely,” he announces as he sits down next to Gaara at the main table. He wolfs down the beef and turns to address his brother with a full mouth. “What’s fo’ d’ssert?”

“It seems you already had dessert, no?” Temari eyes him with livid eyes.

She knows.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I had important Episar business to take care of.”

“Important Episar business?” Temari watches Kiba where he sits at his table across the room as she sips on some water. “Business that ends with Inuzuka Kiba wearing the waistcoat I so lovingly picked out for you, brother?” Kankuro glances at the other man, and sees he’s facing the head table with a shit-eating grin aimed right at Temari. Kiba’s shirt wouldn’t close, considering the buttons were scattered all over the floor. And the waistcoat had seemed an ingenious idea at the time. He flaunts it for all to see, and Kankuro facepalms, cursing the day he’d fallen for this cocky idiot. Now, he realises Kiba is in some kind of stand-off with his sister and he hastily tries to come up with an excuse. “He spilled ink on his shirt, I was simply helping him out, improving Konoha-Suna relations, you know?”

“I know _exactly_ how Konoha-Suna relations are _improved_ , idiot! How’d you think I got in this situation?!” She gestures to her slightly rounded stomach before slamming the table. “Dammit, Kankuro! I specifically said no banging at my wedding. I hope you didn’t get caught in the toilets or in the freakin’ bushes!”

“Actually,” butts in Gaara. “I made sure to keep track of their chakra signatures to ensure they stayed out of the public eye.”

“Gaara!” Temari is shocked. Kankuro is oddly touched.

“Yes, they were very responsible and extracted themselves to the small building by the pond.”

Temari clutches the glass she’s holding with enough force to break the stem. “Do you mean…our new family home? That small building by the pond? The _only_ small building by the pond?”

Kankuro pales. Shikamaru, who until now had not said a word, leans forward.

“What.”

Gaara puts down his cutlery, seemingly done with his food. “Excuse me, I must speak with Lee about some important business.” Kankuro clutches the sleeve of his brother’s suit as he stands.

“Gaara! _Please_. You can’t leave me. She’s going to kill me,” he whispers fearfully. A small frown appears on Gaara's brow. A sure sign of conflict, and in Kankuro’s favour.

“But she _did_ say not to bang anyone at her wedding, Kankuro.” Gaara peels his hand away and disappears in a whirl of sand, leaving him directly in Temari’s line of sight. Shikamaru hands her a kunai, and in the moment she pulls her hand back to throw it, he turns to Kiba once more and catches his confused eye.

‘ _I love you_ ,’ he mouths again.

The kunai lets loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is finally finished. It's been a long few months with this story at the back of my mind and i hope it satisfied people need's for more fanfic in this ship. Thank you so much for everyone who took the time to read, comment, kudos, suscribe, bookmarked and add amazing fanart to this story. You guys are great.
> 
> I may come back and review this story, and edit it. I've never written fanfiction really before now, so maybe this multi-chaptered longfic wasn't the best place to start! XD But I hope it worked out okay. I enjoyed writing this, and I'm immensely proud that I completed it. It was a plot in the back of my mind for about three years, and was something I used to plan out when I would tell myself I was 'writing' when really I was just 'plotting'. So I'm delighted I did it. Resolution complete!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me at krankuro on Tumblr for extra information and head canons as well as update progress. Or if you wanna just chat shop about anything Kiba/Kankuro I'm game!


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